If Only I Could
by Gillingham
Summary: Present day setting of getting Brandon and Marianne together. Thanks for the premise and help with the plot go to DrEvil818. :) Also need to mention the inspiration from Joanna Trollope's fab contemporary take on the novel (part of a series of modernised Austen novels by established authors).
1. Chapter 1

If Only I Could: A Sense and Sensibility contemporary fiction

Chapter 1

"How was the dinner?" Elinor asked her friend as soon as she took a seat in his comfortably leather sofa, cradling her mug of delicious coffee. The perks of being the boss: a light and spacious office. The perks of being good at your job: making your light and spacious office so gloriously attractive Elinor could have happily moved in to live in it.

Christopher Brandon brought his coffee over to the sofa as well and sat himself down, taking some time to formulate an answer to his friend's question.  
"Not too bad, on the whole," he then managed to say. He tried to keep his tone light, but knew far too well that Elinor would hear his every apprehension in that statement. As she did:

"On the whole?"

A long sigh and a frown were all that Brandon could muster in reply.

"I'm sorry. So John did bring you a blind date over?" She confirmed. She knew Christopher loved his old friend Sir John Middleton like no other friend, but she also knew how frustrated he got over the older man's attempts at match-making. Apparently a man was not supposed to remain single even if tried to explain he was not interested in half-hearted pass-time relationships he knew would not last. Sir John's view was simply that Brandon couldn't possibly know if a relationship would last or not unless he gave it a go every now and then. Last night had been one of Sir John's regular "art-meets-business" networking dinners, and as both Elinor and Christopher had anticipated, there had been a new "introduction".

"So, what was it like? Anyone you knew?" Elinor asked, sipping her delightful coffee. It was positively sinful how good the coffee machine in the executive wing was.

"No, no one I knew. Someone who'd just moved to London from Madrid. Consuela something-or-other. She was nice. Caught on to what John was doing straight away and we managed to express mutual understanding I think. She's not looking for company any more than I am and I suppose I'm just lucky that she understood this straight away and there wasn't much awkwardness." Brandon explained. But that was enough on that topic. Elinor was as good a friend as he had, but his dating – or not dating as it were – was not something he wished to keep talking about.

"So, what else is new? You said you wanted to ask something, and I assume it wasn't about last night's dinner?" he changed the subject smoothly.

"Yes, there was. And please, please tell me straight off this is not appropriate or none of my business, ok? It's not personal, at least for you, but I'm afraid I am leaning on our friendship here a little," Elinor started. She did not like to mix her friendship with Christopher into matters of work, but these were exceptional times for her family.

"Go on, is everything all right?" Brandon focused – Elinor was a stickler to proper channels and behaviour, so this was clearly a big deal for her. The girl (if he was allowed to think of her as such, her being somewhat younger) and her family had had difficult time of it for the past year after their father had died. Elinor's mother had been a housewife ever since Elinor was born, and there were two younger sisters, not quite out of the family home yet.

"Yes, yes, we're ok. As much as we have been. It was just about those summer trainee positions you were talking about last week, for the creative departments?" Elinor reminded Brandon of the meeting where this had been talked about. Brandon nodded for her to continue, yes, he was still more or less in control of his faculties and remembered the plan. Poor Elinor must have been a bit beside herself to babble on like this.

"Well, here goes: would it be awfully forward and rude of me to recommend and promote our Marianne for one of the posts in graphics?" Elinor then asked, not quite daring to meet Christopher's eyes. He was known for fairness and open procedures in the company, and nepotism – even if it wasn't his family but his friend's family – probably did not sit well in his view of how people get selected to various jobs.

Brandon was unsure of how to respond. No wonder Elinor had been a bit apprehensive about asking this. She was always so very correct about everything that even this occasional casual coffee moment of theirs was pushing the boundaries for her. Brandon did not want to say no, but there were problems with saying yes, too.

"What year is she, again?" he then asked and heard Elinor breathe. Had she been holding her breath until he responded? Goodness, this was serious.

"Second. She's going to find a job, any job, regardless, and obviously I've said nothing about the possible posts, but I just thought if there's a chance for a job that matches her training it would give her such a boost in her confidence." Elinor answered, her additional explanation bursting out of her mouth before she managed to curb herself.

"And, as objectively as an older sister is able to, you'd say she knows her stuff?" Brandon then asked. Elinor was so on tenterhooks about this that he clearly was not going to have to ask many questions here.

"As far as I can say, based on the assignments I've seen so far, she should know her stuff. I'm not a professional, of course, but I've tried to compare what I've seen here to the things I've seen her do and I'm quite sure she can't be far off the mark." Elinor assured Brandon.

"I don't want to put you in an awkward situation, but if I could – when the time comes to apply for the posts – get her to apply and perhaps make her feel like she has a genuine chance, it would really help her." She continued. It was, of course, too much to ask Christopher to give Marianne a job outright, but if he could assure her that Marianne would be considered, that would be good, too.

"And why wouldn't she have a chance, if she knows her stuff? And why would she not think she does?" Brandon queried. Elinor was a confident young woman who tended to tackle problems and adversity by analysing each situation, formulating a plan of action and then going for it. Perhaps the sister was not the same?

"As said, she's second year. There are so many more experienced graduates around, too, who still need jobs and are happy to accept traineeships and even unpaid internships," Elinor started. She wondered how far into Marianne's person she should go. After all, it might not be fair to present Marianne in any particular light before her sister had a chance to make her own first impression. "Marianne knows she's not as experienced as so many other applicants that are around for any graphics jobs right now. And remember I told you about her taking time off after… father..? Marianne is a bit concerned that that will look bad on her CV as well. She's lost some of her natural confidence, I'm afraid, but I don't think it affects the quality of her work."

Brandon was quiet again for a while, sipping his coffee, seemingly in deep thought. Elinor sipped her coffee as well, waiting for what he had to say.

"Look, Christopher, if anything you're fair boss and a good friend. You can tell me straight up if you don't want to know about this, and if I've overstepped the line here, I'll not be offended," she then said quietly. Brandon turned to look at her and smiled.

"Don't worry. Surely you don't think you're the only one who's ever approached me with something like this? Everyone's got a brother or a sister or a teenage kid or a cousin or what have you who could do with a bit of a leg-up. Really. If you can't ask a friend then who can you ask? And you and I both know how half of getting any job these days is about who you know instead of what you know." Brandon started and reached out to take Elinor's hand in what he hoped was a friendly and re-assuring gesture. Elinor gave back a small smile of relief.

"Why don't I just see about her application when the time comes, and we'll interview her for sure. I can't promise the job just based on this, but how about I make sure that she has a good chance of it if she's otherwise about on par with the other applicants in terms of skills?" Brandon then suggested. He'd be involved in the recruitment anyways, as he always was when the creative end of his company was hiring. A little bit of positive discrimination would not hurt in this case.

"I couldn't ask for more." Elinor replied. "And I'll not say anything else to Marianne than that I've asked you if she would be eligible, in a general sense," Elinor added. It wouldn't do to make her sister think that she could just walk into a very sought-after job.

"Yes, perhaps it's best. All I'm promising here is to be open to her application. She'll not get it unless she's good enough, yes?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"And don't worry about this. Like I said, everyone looking for a job is looking for a way of getting their application lifted onto the top of the pile. This isn't any more than that." Brandon assured her.

"Thank you, Christopher," she said, giving his hand a little squeeze.

When Elinor had gone, Brandon had a meeting of department heads, but he had trouble concentrating. From what he'd heard from Elinor, Marianne had taken their father's death very badly. So had the youngest sister, Margaret. Elinor was in pieces, too, and Brandon had just about forced her to take some time off back then. Elinor had been grieving herself, too, but somehow she had been assigned to the role of the one who would take care of things. The one who had to keep her wits about her and make sure everyone else was fine. They weren't fine, of course, but thanks to Elinor the funeral and the solicitors and all the nasty formalities that went with someone's death were dealt with while the rest of the family could more focus on their own grief. Elinor clearly hadn't really let go of that role even now.


	2. Chapter 2

If Only I Could: A Sense and Sensibility contemporary fiction

Chapter 2

Margaret and Marianne were setting the table for dinner at the Dashwood's family home in Crouch End when Elinor arrived from work. She and Edward tried to have dinner with her family more or less regularly – if not once a week then at least once every two weeks or so. Edward was coming from work later as well. These dinners really mostly depended on Edward's shifts at the hospital, and they hadn't had one for a while with Edward doing so much overtime. He'd been covering for some of the other nurses at the hospital with the massive wave of flu that had been going around.

Their mother, Anne, was overseeing the dinner by the stove. Having all exchanged their greetings, Elinor set to work on a salad.

"Did I tell you yet," Anne started now that all three of her girls were there, "that I went to the job centre this week."

"Oh yes?" Elinor asked. Her mother had talked about getting a job somewhere, even if just part time, to get out of the house a bit and to make a bit of pin money to top up her not-so-amazing widow's pension.

"I didn't sign up, as such, but went about seeing what jobs were on offer. Do you think I could work in a restaurant?" Anne went on.

All three daughters exchanged slightly surprised looks. Their mother wasn't old as such, but she was getting on and had not been to any employment since Elinor was born.

"Heavy work, that," Elinor contributed, cautiously hoping to sound out her mother's determination and self-assessment of her own abilities.

"I suppose so, can't quite see myself managing on my feet all day long, carrying things back and forth," Anne agreed. Elinor let out a silent sigh of relief hearing this: her mother wasn't insisting on restaurants. She would be able to make do with the money that was coming in, but of course a little more wouldn't hurt. But she'd end up hurting herself if she thought she'd make it as a kitchen porter or a waitress.

"Anything else available?" Marianne asked.

"Nothing much in my range, I'm afraid," Anne sighed, but then remembered Marianne's news: "But Marianne didn't tell you yet, did she? She was invited to an interview at your place!"

That cheered them all up. Or it was hard to tell with Margaret sometimes, with her teenage moods and brooding. The whole family was still, no doubt, in pieces after that shock, but they all had to try and move on somehow. Margaret was lashing out a little less these days, but she'd still start to cry almost uncontrollably at times when things were too hard for her. Teenage hormones and immeasurable grief at losing her father were not a very fruitful combination.

"And she's got a gig with The Dead Ringers next Friday," Margaret said. Might as well have that out as well in the same commotion, is how Margaret saw it. As Margaret saw it, her job nowadays was to sit out her school and hope the world would be a little better place by then. She had no idea what to study, all her friends were preoccupied with boys and Margaret just couldn't bring herself to care about anything. Her mother was a mess, Elinor had moved out so long ago, and Marianne seemed to have too much other living to do to really pay attention to Margaret. So tonight's dinner would, again, be all about Marianne and it was 'in for penny, in for a pound' for Margaret. Meanwhile, she'd sit quietly and later go to her room and immerse herself in a computer game.

"How excellent!" Elinor rejoiced. "Where is it? Can we come and see? Can Margaret get in?"

"It's just some birthday do at the Hound," Marianne explained. The Hound was a pub with a large function room not far from Crouch End. North London had plenty of people who could afford to throw a big party with a live band.

Marianne's band, The Dead Ringers, was something Elinor supported very much. She wasn't musically inclined herself, but she could see how good Marianne felt whenever she was practicing or performing. The band played easy-going party pop (or soul and R&B, whatever was needed) covers and Marianne was the singer. Elinor was certain that the music and performing would help Marianne get back the confidence she lost after their father died. And if Elinor guessed right, Marianne would soon be working herself in to a right state because of the job interview. Elinor would have to get some more detail out of her on that one later.

Marianne had lived at student digs already, but she had moved back home to be with their mother and Margaret. Marianne had always been more of her mother's girl than her father's, but that did not make losing their father any easier. Their father had been extremely supportive of Marianne's choice to pursu graphics and design as a career even when the girl had worried about her talent. If anything, Marianne had felt very strongly for their mother and young Margaret as well. Along with Edward, Marianne had most tried to help Elinor out with all the practicalities. She had seemed to have noticed Elinor's burden with trying to comfort everyone else, and tried not to add to that so much herself. That was partly why she had moved back home: so that their mother and Margaret would not cling onto Elinor quite so much. It had all brought Elinor and Marianne even closer to each other than before, even if Elinor still was the organised pragmatist and Marianne the commitment-free artistic soul.

Just a while later Edward showed up as well, straight from the hospital looking all of the 18 hours he had been at work.

"You look bushed!" Elinor said as she greeted him with a kiss and a cuddle.

"And feel it, too," he replied.

"These for me?" Elinor then noticed the bundle of flowers he was carrying.

"Well, let's say they're for all of you lovely ladies," Edward flashed his adorable smile. He truly was about the sweetest, nicest man they knew.

The said ladies made appreciative noises and Marianne took the flowers while their mother went on a hunt for a vase.

"Actually, Anne, you said you were keeping an eye open for a job?" Edward continued as he made himself comfortable at the table. He'd been on his feet for longer than he cared to think and by the looks of it everything was good to go dinner-wise.

"Yes, I certainly am" Anne confirmed.

"The florists' had a note up. Part-time, to help out at busy times like Saturdays and suchlike, apparently. The lady said it was not necessary to be trained as she'd just be pointing out the odd jobs that needed doing."

"That sounds worth asking about," Elinor said.

"Yes, goodness, you know just about everything about flowers and plants," Marianne agreed. Margaret made some teen-age noises that were reasonably easy to interpret as joining in on the agreement.

"Which florists' was it, the on up the road?" Anne asked. If it was, then it was Mrs Jennings and Anne knew the shop well. Anne knew her and the girls and poor late David as well when he was alive – they had frequented that shop for years and years.

"That's right, Mrs Jennings' place," Edward confirmed and gratefully accepted the glass of red wine his darling wife poured him.

Conversation over dinner was lively and flowing, as usual. They chatted about everything from Edward's massive shifts at the hospital and the problems with getting more temp nurses in to speculating about the florists' job and Margaret's impending A-levels. It was the latter topic that made Margaret contribute the most by pointing the chatter back to the one topic that Elinor was very keen on and that would re-direct the attention to somewhere Margaret would consider more comfortable: anything that was not her, really:

"Edward, you didn't hear this yet, but Marianne's got an interview at Elinor's company."

Margaret's ploy was successful, and the conversation was stuck on Impressions and the trainee posts for a long time. Elinor had not been wrong in thinking Marianne would start worrying herself over the job opportunity.

"I just wonder what the interview will be like," Marianne said quietly. She'd never really been at a proper interview.

"What does the invitation say, does it say who's interviewing?" Elinor had asked later in the evening – once again over a glass of not-very-expensive white.

"Just says Alison Riley, head of graphics."

"There might be someone else there, too, just to sound you out and listen and give Alison a second opinion. But don't let that intimidate you Sweet, Alison is really, really nice. They don't interview anyone if they're not really interested." Elinor explained.

"But won't they be, like, testing me, trying to see if they can catch me out?" Marianne squirmed. She hadn't had a proper job interview before. Coffee shops and the Subway down the street in Crouch End did not exactly seem like the places to prepare you for a real corporate job interview.

"I promise you, they won't be trying to trip you up or anything. Who would want to work in a place that did that, anyways, who tried to set people up to fail? No, they'll just want to hear how you see your skills and what you can do and if you have some idea of how you can contribute to the place. Just be honest with them. They already know you haven't much actual work experience in graphics but they want to see you all the same. That must mean something!" Elinor tried to explain.

"Will that friend of yours, the owner be there? You said he's a designer and takes interest in all the creative stuff," Marianne was just full of questions and her fertile mind was trying to come up with new mine fields to replace any that Elinor managed to make go away.

"Oh I doubt it. He lets his managers do their job, you'd not be reporting to him so he'll leave it to the department head to organise the recruitment." Elinor explained.

"What's he like? He's your boss, isn't he?" Margaret suddenly piped in. To her, Elinor was the sanest person in the world and if there ever was a problem where Margaret needed help Elinor would be the first person to go to. Elinor, though, kept talking about her boss just on those terms: her portrayal of him whenever the man came up for any reason, was that he was fair and wise and clever and nice and everything Elinor, to Margaret, was.

"Christopher Brandon?" Elinor asked – Margaret was interested? Elinor was a little surprised.

"He's great. In a word. Or I think so anyways. The thing is, I don't really know very much about him, just bits and pieces, but he's the best boss I've ever had. Others have been nice, too, but Christopher really seems to know where needs to pitch in and what things can be left to his staff to do. Then, even when he pitches in it doesn't feel like he comes in to bulldoze his way, but it's always a constructive sort of an effort." Elinor wasn't quite sure how to describe her boss. She was reluctant to say much about his persona partly because she didn't want to influence her sister's eventual first impression of him if she got the job, but also because Christopher Brandon was such a very private person. She had known him for years now and they had formed a quiet, private, friendship. That was why she knew about his dread of Sir John's matchmaking efforts and other little private things he did – but Elinor would never talk to anyone else about any of it.


	3. Chapter 3

If Only I Could

Chapter 3

Brandon opened the door to the lobby next to the arts department. Elinor had said she'd be there to see Marianne after her interview, but so far Elinor wasn't there. But someone Brandon did not know was there, sitting on one of the long settees, sketching (by the look of it) something onto a small sketchbook. That would have to be Marianne. It wasn't usual to leave guests to the company unattended for any time, but this lobby that doubled as a coffee room was between wings of the building and anyone wanting to go to either of the two wings would need an electronic key.

The young woman could not see Brandon from where she was sitting, and from the doorway Brandon could just make out her profile. In a way she looked like Elinor, but then again not. She carried herself differently, for one. Where Elinor was solid and grounded somehow, this girl was almost weightless. How that was possible, since they were both slender and graceful creatures, Brandon was not sure, but there was something very light and graceful about her. Like she was a dancer. And the way her face lived with whatever she was sketching was mesmerising and simply beautiful. Brandon had meant to approach the girl straight away, but now found he needed a moment to compose himself – something about her had just struck him on the head like a thick plank and he needed to catch his breath. He had never responded to anyone like that simply by seeing them for the first time, and his response troubled him.

Finally he was able to breathe normally again and his heart rate calmed closer to normal.

"I do believe the signs here explicitly forbid photography around the premises, but I have to admit I'm not sure how that rule applies to such wonderfully accurate drawings," Brandon said softly as he silently had walked to Marianne Dashwood and looked over her shoulder to see what she was sketching. She was simply making a pencil drawing of a decorative paperweight that was on the coffee table. Something Brandon had once picked up from a trip north, a dandelion in its seed phase trapped in a clear acrylic sphere – captured in that fleeting moment in time for perpetuity. Marianne's drawing, in turn, was a very nice attempt at capturing the magnifying effect of the sphere and the light traveling through it.

Marianne jolted and gasped. She had been so lost in thought she hadn't noticed someone approach her from behind.

"Sorry…" she started, turning around to see who was talking to her. In her mind she had just time to process that the voice had not been reprimanding her in any way, and was even a little bit teasing, but at the same time she was still as nervous as could be about the interview that had finished a moment ago. This was Elinor's company and she had been left to wait for Elinor in this lobby. Elinor had rang Alison Riley, head of graphics, to say her meeting was running a little over time and could she leave Marianne to wait here for her, but still Marianne felt a bit like an intruder.

What Marianne saw when she turned around was a man, in his forties maybe, with a relaxed haircut, a three-piece suit that fit him perfectly, and a small smile on his face that allowed Marianne to believe that he was teasing rather than telling her off. Marianne laughed a little at reacting like a school girl caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.

"No, please, I'm sorry – didn't meant to startle you," the man said. Marianne smiled back at him.

"I'm Marianne Dashwood, I was just interviewed by Alison Riley and I'm waiting for someone to collect me from here," Marianne then explained. There had been so many security things going on ever since she'd arrived she was now guessing this man wanted to know why a stranger was sitting in this lobby by herself, sketching a paperweight.

"I know," he simply replied and walked around the settee to her side. Once there he extended his hand in formal greeting.

"I'm Christopher Brandon, perhaps your sister has mentioned me?"

Marianne had stood up as the man had walked around the settee and took his hand, a little surprised.

"Oh, yes, she has, how do you do, sir," she greeted him. Gods, what sort of a first impression was she making? Lounging in the lobby, sketching something pointless like she had nothing better to do, Marianne gave herself a mental kick. The man didn't seem to mind, though, but flashed that smile again and gave a soft laugh. She checked her posture (good, upright and confident), evaluated the handshake she had given (yes, she remembered to be firm but not hard), and sighed in relief that she had remembered to look the man in the eye. Eyes. The lovely, kind, brown eyes he had.

"Please, call me Christopher. After all, your sister is a good friend of mine, and we don't much go for titles here at Impressions," he replied, and gestured for her to sit down again, settling on the settee as well. He did have places to be and a million and a half things to do, but he could not bring himself to leave Marianne Dashwood's company just yet. As he sat down, Brandon found himself in the mids of another bizarre internal disturbance: he had to consider very carefully at what distance he would leave. A part of him wanted to sit closer, as he would if he was at one of Sir John's dinner parties and actually interested in a woman John had set him up with. Then again he felt like this young woman was somehow special: she was much younger than he, delicate and beautiful yet she was making an effort to project confidence. He may well end up her boss' boss soon and it really wouldn't do to make the lady feel uncomfortable.

"May I see that?" he then dispersed the potential for an awkward silence and reached his hand out to Marianne's sketchpad. Almost as if drugged by Brandon's quiet charisma, it took Marianne a moment to comprehend what he was after. She then let out a shy laugh when she understood and simply handed him her pad. He never seemed to take his eyes off hers, and a small friendly smile remained.

"Lovely, you've got the light coming through very nicely, I wish I could do that," he commented after examining her hasty sketch for a moment.

"I'm sure can, no offence Marianne," the heard Elinor's voice from the doorway. She'd finally been able to leave the meeting and had rushed to the lobby.

"I see you've met, do I need to introduce you?" Elinor continued, only to hear both Marianne and Christopher respond by laughing as if they were in a conspiracy with each other. Elinor looked at the two who re-enforced her impression of a conspiracy by sharing a look and a smile. What had she missed here?

"No, no need for introductions. I had to approach this young lady as she was sketching a far too convincing picture of the interior of our office building. No photography is allowed here and considering the quality of her picture I have decided to confiscate the illegal image," Christopher Brandon declared with mock seriousness.

"Oh dear, I'm in trouble," Marianne joined in on the act. Elinor simply stared at the two. What was going on?

In a genuinely more serious yet friendly manner, Brandon then asked:

"May I keep this drawing?"

"Of course," Marianne replied. Then Elinor simply had to give Brandon her excuses and drag Marianne with her. They were supposed to have lunch together and talk about the interview, and Elinor only had so much time between her appointments today.

A week later found Marianne sitting by the kitchen table, staring at her mobile, willing it to ring when Margaret came home from school.

"What are you doing?" Margaret asked, looking at her sister as if Marianne had grown a second head or something equally odd.

"They said they'd call today, the latest."

Margaret took a moment to understand. Then she remembered all the commotion that had been going on about the job. Marianne coming home a week ago, squealing about how she would absolutely love to work at Impressions, how the head of graphics had been so wonderful and nice and probably a saint (well, the latter was Margaret's impression from Marianne's overly demonstrative reactions), how the offices were wonderful and how everyone had a wonderful place to work and a fabulous, top of the line computer, and how (this Margaret found the oddest) that boss-friend of Elinor's had been so lovely and wonderful and so nice and not at all like a big boss and he'd asked for Marianne's stupid sketch. It was all a great big bundle Marianne making squeaky noises and jumping around and talking faster than she could draw breath, but Margaret was quite confident she'd got the gist of it.

Right then, their mother stepped in as well, smiling wider than either of the girls had seen in a long, long time.

"Oh, girls!" She exclaimed first thing, looking like she'd explode if she didn't share her news immediately.

"What is it, mum?" Marianne asked first. Again, Margaret was simply staring at her mother as if it was her growing a second head now.

"Mrs Jennings gave me that job. At the florists! I can start next week!" Anne Dashwood said, making noises and little hops and bounces that to Margaret looked very similar to what Marianne had been doing a week ago after her interview.

Marianne jumped up, her phone left on the table, to hug her mother. This was good news, indeed. Her mother had so hoped to find some employment outside the house, and Marianne and Elinor had talked about it a lot and how it would probably do their mother a world of good to start putting a bit of a social life together for herself outside the family. To get a little money for it was simply a nice extra.

"Oh mum, I'm so happy for you!" Marianne said and rushed to hug her mother. The happy noises drowned the soft ringtone of Marianne's phone. It was Margaret who noticed the gadget buzzing on the table.

"Marianne, your phone!" Margaret alerted her sister. Margaret was usually quite determined not to let excitement (or many other feelings come to that) come through in her interactions with her family, but she couldn't quite curb her excited tone this time – perhaps this hyper frenzy of her mother and older sister were contagious somehow?

Marianne rushed back to her phone, stared at the screen for a moment as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Anne Dashwood quickly sussed that this was The Call, and nearly stopped breathing in her effort not to make any sounds while Marianne was on the phone. Marianne answered, kept her cool, answered in a few simple, single syllable words, then finished the call with a very business-like "thank you for letting me know, bye!" Neither Anne nor Margaret dared draw any conclusions from her tone. It didn't sound dejected in any way, but was it positive or did they simply hope for it to be positive. Finally Marianne turned around with a broad smile on her face:

"I got it! I got the job at Impressions!"

This time, even Margaret had to join in with the jumping around and making squeaky noises and hugging her mother and sister.


	4. Chapter 4

If Only I Could

Chapter 4

"So you didn't call Camilla then?" Sir John Middleton asked Brandon at a convenient point between their lunch mains and coffee. Brandon simply stared at him, clearly not amused, and scoffed.

"Oh come on, man! She's beautiful and fun and certainly no airhead – what more could you want as an incentive to just call and see her again? Doesn't mean you have to take it any further if she turned out to have some ghastly secret. The provenance is good!" John continued, arguing his dear friend's near-silent objection. Brandon sighed and only just stopped himself from rolling his eyes like a teenager.

"Yes, John, she seemed a very nice person and not bad looking either, if that matters anyways, and she'll probably turn out to be great company by herself as well as at one of your parties…" Brandon protested, not quite able to complete his sentence.  
"But?" John prompted him to continue. There had certainly been a "but" on its way in there somewhere. Brandon sighed again and put his cup down. He didn't really feel like finishing his coffee now.

"But there is nothing that draws me to her. She's probably fantastic in every way possible. A professional at what she does with interesting hobbies. But none that draw me. Even if I knew what they were."

Sir John burst out laughing. His friend was such a slave to his instincts and his intuition that he didn't make any effort in the "ladies front", as John called it, unless there was an initial spark. And that spark was rarely there anymore. Not for at least couple of years now.

"I can't bring myself to ask someone out on false pretences, John, you know that."

And John knew. He knew Christopher Brandon was not into one night stands, and he would not ask anyone out unless he felt he was genuinely interested in that person beyond a single date. It didn't stop John from setting his friend up with suitable young women – just in case one of them did give off that initial spark.

"You must stop trying to set me up, John. Please. Promise me or I shall simply stop coming to your dos," Brandon pleaded. He had found himself in an awkward situation more often than was good for anyone at John's parties, where some woman had been invited only so that she could be introduced to him. And none of them stirred his imagination in the slightest. John wasn't trying to set him up with bimbos or dullards, he had to grant that much of an acknowledgement to his friend, but all the same, nothing had ever come of it. The worst part of any of these evenings was the moment when the unsuspecting "blind date" realised that the man she'd been invited to meet (women clearly sussed these things out quicker than men, didn't they) was not interested in the slightest. Brandon never knew whether to openly apologize that the lady had been lead to believe there would be mutual interest, or whether to pretend not to be aware of these machinations.

"Really, Christopher? You'd rather not meet anyone?"

"No, John," Brandon replied, and was suddenly lost in his thought for a split second too long for John not to notice. "Not this way," Brandon continued. He did not see how John's gaze refocused on his features at this slight hesitation. He was rather shocked to have lost his focus on the idea of Marianne Dashwood. Marianne Dashwood, who had occupied his thoughts more than was reasonable since their meeting at Inspired. Just now, suddenly, thinking about the missing spark, he had suddenly realised that he had been positively snapped by one when he met Marianne.

"And in what way have you met someone?" John then asked, lowering his voice to indicate that he had sussed something out. Brandon couldn't help but quickly meet his friend's gaze, a response that as much as declared how correct John was.

"It's nothing," Brandon tried to diffuse the topic. John said nothing, simply continued to stare at his friend.

"Honest, John. It's nothing now, and it can never be anything either. She works for me and she's a younger sister of a dear friend. Too much younger sister."

"Ah, the Dashwoods!" John exclaimed. Brandon looked puzzled.

"Adele told me she just recently hired someone at her shop, and this someone turned out to be the mother of your fabulous Elinor Dashwood! And this means Adele also knew that the middle girl is just starting at your place, too! Small world, eh?" John explained. Of course John already knew Elinor a little bit through Brandon. At first impression, John had been convinced that had Elinor Ferrars been unattached and still called Dashwood, she would have been a true contender for Brandon's affections. But, alas, she was not free, and with time John had even allowed himself to reconsider his opinion: perhaps friendship was the best thing for the two. A friendship that was much better and stronger than a poor attempt at a romantic relationship.

Brandon smiled. Somehow he was not surprised at this connection. John seemed to know absolutely everybody, and if he didn't his mother-in-law Adele Jenkins certainly knew the rest.

"She starts tomorrow, graphics."

"She's not _that_ young," John suggested, merely with the intention of gauging his friend's reaction to these probes.

"Oh come on, John, she's still in university!"

"Only because she took a couple of gap years before she started!"  
"It still makes her far too young, and she's an employee. And in any case, what makes you think that even if her age, or mine, or her employment were issues here, that she would spare two glances at someone like me, eh?" And with that statement Brandon's demeanour darkened and closed off from the world, and John knew not to push it.

"Ah well, one can hope, you know. But, as it is, I promise not to shove any further unwanted socialites at your general direction, dear friend."

What Brandon had not let on to his friend was how consumed he had been with Marianne Dashwood. He had had that time alone with her when she'd been for her interview, and he had later realised that something had happened to him then. The girl was beautiful. That was the first thing anyone would have to admit about her. But the way she considered what he had said, and then considered what she would reply, how she had been so nervous but also determined not to let her nervousness take over – and the way she had looked him in the eye. An equal, even if he was potentially going to be her boss' boss. Someone who wanted to look at him like an actual person and not this character called company director.

The next day found Brandon pacing his office before the time when he usually had his coffee with Elinor. Marianne had started this morning, and he couldn't help but want to see how she was getting on. Part of him was telling him it would be good to see her just to see that the whole attraction thing that had haunted him for weeks now was just his imagination, and that at the very least he would be able to convince himself to stop thinking about the girl. If he saw her, he could observe at first hand how she would be not interested in him in any way, and there was no imaginary meeting of equals taking place. Another part of him just wanted to see her because she was there and he should go enjoy her company some more.

Whatever the reason, it looked like he would not be able to convince himself to stay away. He'd go ask her to join him and Elinor for coffee, as a way of saying hello and welcoming her on her first day. It wasn't the usual practice, but surely it was all right to do such a thing to a friend's sister when she first started on the job?

"Tell Elinor she should come to Zorro's if she comes here. I'm taking her sister there now," Brandon instructed his assistant as he walked out of his office and towards the arts wing. As he walked, he wanted to kick himself. How did he know that this was a suitable coffee break time for Marianne? Her boss might have a completely different schedule for her! He'd just have to be all boss-like about it and hope it washed down easily with Alison.

Ten minutes later and he was standing at the queue at Zorro's coffee shop with Marianne, keeping to neutral coffee-selection ground in terms of topics of conversation. He ordered for Elinor as well and silently wished and hoped that she would come quickly. He had been a man driven to have a few moments alone with this young woman, and now he found himself a fish out of water. They sat down at a table outside.

"So…" he started.

"So…" she smiled and looked at her coffee.

"I trust everyone's made you feel welcome?" Brandon then got a hold of himself. He simply had to remember that he was here as a director, not on a first date.

"Yes, thank you. But I must confess, I've met so many people this morning I'll not remember anyone's names," Marianne laughed. And in her laughter Brandon heard music. In a manner of moments he had lost the battle with himself and knew that being professional with her was just an act: pretend to be a distant boss while wanting to take her and in his. He'd refused dates with John's girlfriend candidates because he did not want to feign interest when there was none. Now he found himself feigning only superficial interest in an official capacity when there was most pressing interest gnawing away at him.

Luckily for him, the conversation took on easily from there, talking about whom she'd met and what she'd seen so far on her first day and what her expectations of this first day had been. And eventually Elinor joined them, collecting her coffee from the counter. They were all regulars here and Brandon had asked them not to make Elinor's coffee until she arrived. Having Elinor there made things much easier for Brandon. He could allow himself to be Elinor's friend and that way it wouldn't look so odd if he accidently talked to Marianne in a familiar manner. Perhaps it would be possible to establish a friendship with he, by association?

"Mum said you've another gig coming up?" Elinor asked her sister at one point, wanting to catch up on more than just work things.

"Yes, next Friday. Very exciting, it's a private company party I think," Marianne confirmed.

"A gig? You play an instrument?" Brandon got interested.

"Well, I did. I played the cello when I was younger, but I'm afraid I let that drop. Now I just sing in this band. It's a party band and we play familiar hit music, really. Weddings and birthdays and sometimes some pubs." Marianne explained, and continued: "Do you play an instrument?"

What Brandon did not realise, was that once again he was in the company of a friend who knew how to read him. And this friend knew how to read her sister, too. This exchange was seemingly just casually about musical instruments and suchlike, but the interest that had flashed in Christopher Brandon's eyes and how Marianne seemed to just about fill with joy at his interest in her told Elinor there was another discourse in process there, under the surface.

"Oh no. Well, not anymore. Like you, I let it drop and that was a long time ago. I used to dabble at the piano."

"That's a shame. I bet you were good, too." Marianne said with a smile.

"I wouldn't say that. Anyways, I'm a bit of a bore and keep mostly to classical music and it's much nicer to hear someone play the pieces well than to try and butcher my way through them myself." Brandon's smile was almost coy now and it was his turn to lower his gaze onto the table surface. What was he doing? He never told his staff these things about himself.

"No pop music at all?" Marianne asked, and he could tell she was teasing him gently now.

Elinor kept out of the conversation now, just watching the two in amazement. Christopher Brandon was shy, nervous and yet somehow keen, and her sister was blushing and engaging this man in a conversation that was increasingly more than idle chatter.  
"You must promise not to make it public knowledge, but… I do own some vinyls of Led Zeppelin. But only because it was the favourite band of the girl I fancied when I was fourteen," he then confessed in a lowered voice, stressing the importance of keeping this deep, and shameful secret. Marianne laughed again and Brandon smiled more fully now. He'd only known the girl all of five minutes and already he knew there were few things he enjoyed more than to make her laugh like this. He also became aware of the stare the girl's sister was giving the two of them across the table. He was probably in trouble now.


	5. Chapter 5

If Only I Could

Chapter 5

Anne Dashwood had just finished lifting the large perennial baskets outside the Mrs Jennings' Florist's front entry when her boss arrived at the shop. Anne still could not believe her luck in getting this job: Adele Jennings was such fun to work with and she'd been so understanding about Anne's lack of experience. Adele had simply said that it was more important to her to find the right person for the job and then show the ropes rather than get someone who is mostly qualified for this or that but with whom she did not get on the right way. And, truth be told, Adele had said, there were few qualifications for the work she had in mind for her part-time assistant. She needed someone to look after everyday routines and overall tidiness of her shop so that she could spend more time producing the arrangements, bouquets and wreaths that she had to create almost non-stop these days. Anne had a good grasp of what you do with plants and flowers and what not to do, and that was a solid basis for learning the rest, like operating the till.

So the two women quickly found out various excellent facts about each other, such as they really got on like a house on fire and that they had (even if just second hand) many acquaintances in common. For the first of these facts, it did not hurt that they were about the same age and both had grown up daughters. For the second, they had soon established that Anne's Elinor was working for a certain Christopher Brandon who was perhaps the best friend of Adele's son-in-law, Sir John. Adele and Christopher Brandon were well acquainted, in fact, as the men had been friends for such a long time. Apparently, the men had served in the armed forces at the same time in Bosnia.

"John's having a barbeque, can you believe it!" Adele told Anne excitedly.

"Oh?"

"Yes, and I don't think he's had one of those before," Adele continued. As far as she could remember, there had been garden parties galore, dinners, late night cocktail parties and what have you but he hadn't actually had a barbeque before.

"And what brings this on?" Anne asked. Form Adele's stories Anne had started to believe she knew this John herself!

"He said he'd decided that this is the kind of relaxed and informal kind of a party that young people would like. Something that did not require formal wear or a lot of primping to show up for, and everyone would just eat and drink beer and chat and get to know each other," Adele explained. Then continued:

"Mind, I have some idea he's trying to get some specific people to socialise with each other, if you see what I mean."

"Who is that?" Anne asked. She'd learned that this John was a bit of a match maker. Adele talked about it as if it was just John, but Anne had quickly sussed out that Adele was just as eager to see any single acquaintances of theirs to at least try and check out the talent around their peculiar circle of friends.

"I'm not sure. He's been trying to set Christopher up with various young women over the years but with no success. He says he's now promised to leave poor Christopher alone but I'm not entirely sure if I believe him. But something is brewing, I'm absolutely certain of that and now I can't wait for this party to see what it is! And the really best thing about it all is that you and your girls will be invited as well!" Adele then remembered to announce.

"Really? But whatever for, we don't really know Sir John…" Anne started hesitantly. She would so love to go and see the big house Adele had often talked about.

"I think it's largely to do with your Elinor and Marianne and them working for Christopher. Well, Elinor and Christopher are good friends already and Elinor knows John and now John really wants to meet the rest of you, too, since Marianne's at Christopher's place now and you are here with me. There's just too much connection now for all of us not to meet properly, don't you think?"

Anne smiled, yes, they were all connected in so many ways it would be good to finally meet these people.

"Will Christopher Brandon be there, do you think?" Anne then asked.  
"I expect so, he does usually come when John asks. And I'm still not convinced that John isn't trying to set him up with someone. Why?"

"Just that Marianne has been talking so much about working at that company and also about him. She really seems to think the world of him. I'd like to meet him myself now. Elinor is more quiet about her work, usually, but I know that she's friends with him." Anne explained, and observed Adele's eyes grow wide as if she'd realised something. Adele just stared at Anne for a bit, not saying anything.

"What is it?" Anne then had to ask. Adele was making her a bit nervous now.

"Well, John's always trying to set Christopher up, and now he wants you and your girls at the do, and there's you Marianne who is unattached and lovely and perhaps a bit taken by Christopher – I wouldn't put it past John to see if he was trying to get Christopher and your Marianne to meet outside work!" Adele was now getting almost excited about the prospect. Anne had to think about this. How was Marianne talking about her employer? Were there any signals there of more interest than that of professional sort? No, Anne was quite sure it was all just job related. After all, there was that young man now.

"I can't speak for Sir John," Anne started, and continued:

"But I don't think Marianne's going to be any more susceptible than Christopher Brandon has been so far. See, Marianne's also been talking about this boy she's met in her music circles a little while a go and she seems ever so keen on him."

"Oh," Adele exclaimed flatly, "What a shame."

Meanwhile, one Christopher Brandon was once again kicking himself for being so pathetic. He'd once again arranged to have lunch with Elinor and to be perfectly honest with himself, enjoying Elinor's company was only partly the reason. Mostly the reason had been to try and engineer Elinor to bring Marianne along as well. The man realised that ever since the coffees on Marianne's first day on the job he had been seeking out her company, making more visits to the graphics department than usual just to see in the distance if not exchange a polite greeting. Elinor had been giving him odd looks lately, too, when he'd asked Elinor seemingly casually if she'd check whether Marianne would be able to join the two of them for lunch.

Brandon knew he'd have to get a grip sooner rather than later. It would not do for the head of the company to show interest in a trainee like this. Other people would assume some favouritism might be taking place, and the way he was behaving, Brandon could not be sure that there wasn't. Never mind that the girl was so young. Twenty-three, he'd checked from her files, not wanting to ask Elinor lest that gave his friend more cause for suspicion. Young and beautiful and lovely to be with. Some tosser of a young man wouldn't know how lucky he was one day when Marianne would decide to fall in love.

The worst of the deal was that Brandon could tell they had a connection. She gave him the same attention he gave her. They enjoyed each other's company and fell into easy conversation any time they met. Under many other circumstances the next step, asking her out, would have been a natural one, but Brandon was certain they both knew there was a barrier there that stopped anything beyond potential friendship from forming. Perhaps she, too, worried about his age? Probably. Never mind the professional aspects involved.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Brandon, Marianne was wrestling with similar issues. She loved spending time with her boss's boss, Elinor's friend and perhaps one day her friend, Christopher Brandon, but there was a threshold they were both very wary of. There was a degree of attraction between them, Marianne was absolutely certain of that, but as if upon mutual agreement she and Brandon did not allow themselves to step anywhere near that attraction. Marianne had thought about this and just did not see how it would ever be possible: it would not be proper and right whilst she worked for him. Also, he did not seem the type to go around with a notably younger woman on his arm. Well, he didn't seem to have any kind of a woman (or man!) publicly on his arm, anyways. A forever bachelor, she suspected.

Therefore, when a certain John Willoughby had turned up with his band at a couple of student band jam sessions and had come and talked to Marianne, she had allowed herself to a be tentatively interested. The boy was absolutely beautiful, had the cutest smile, and he had an effortless self confidence about him. Same could be said about Christopher Brandon, too, but where Brandon pulled away from actually acknowledging that there was a connection between him and Marianne, John had looked her in the eye and simply said he'd like to get to know Marianne better. The attention he was giving Marianne was unlike anything she'd experienced before and she was happy to let John Willoughby to get to know her better.

Elinor and Marianne met Brandon at the café where they'd had coffees also on Marianne's first day. Elinor was getting a little frustrated for not understanding what was happening between her sister and her friend, but since there had been no open acknowledgements of anything, no dates outside work and neither had talked to her about the other, there was very little for Elinor to grasp here. Christopher wasn't usually such a social animal, if that's how you could describe him now. Lunches and coffees with Elinor were not rare, but not something they did all the time, either. Sometimes they'd talk about work, sometimes about more personal things. While Elinor was happy to say they were friends, it did not mean that Christopher would reveal very much about himself to her. Elinor knew enough about him and his character to whole-heartedly know she could trust him like you trusted a close, dear friend, and she hoped that if it came to that, Christopher knew that he could trust her, too. She did not need to know his feelings on anything and everything around him, or know every detail about his past.

"I've been asked to extend an invitation for you two, and your mother and your younger sister," Brandon started, making sure he kept the atmosphere light. Elinor expressed surprise: all of them?

"John's having some sort of a barbeque-come-garden party," he clarified.

"And your Edward should come, too, if he's available," Brandon continued trying his best to keep calm. There was nothing he could do about Marianne as such, but any opportunity to be in her company – if just be in the same room with her – was something he would not miss for the world. How sad was that?

"Lovely!" Elinor exclaimed. "When is it?"

"Saturday next," Brandon explained, seemingly focusing on sipping his coffee but carefully keeping his eye on Marianne. Would she come? She looked uncertain, thinking hard about it.

"Everything ok, Marianne, I hope you all can come," Brandon could not help himself asking. For some reason, the tone of his week to come was suddenly going to depend on Marianne's answer.

"Well… It depends on the time, I'm afraid. Our band has a gig in the evening, quite late, and I need to get there by nine," Marianne then explained, apologetically. Brandon thought of this. That barbeque thing would hold absolutely no charms for him unless Marianne came, and he'd already promised John he would come. Perhaps there was a way?

"John wants to start in the afternoon, two-ish or so. There's drinks and food and I understand he's talking about some form of entertainment later on. I'm sure you could come and meet people and have some nice food and we'll sort out some for of transport for you so you'll get to your gig on time. Yes?" Brandon proposed.

Once again Elinor was quietly observing her friend. This was so unlike him and as much as she could tell he was trying to hide how keen he was for Marianne to be there, he wasn't fooling Elinor. Dear lord, her friend was clearly quite keen on her sister! The man who had been turning down gorgeous socialites for almost as long as Elinor had known him, was now interested in Marianne! More than interested, by the looks of it. Oh gods, Elinor thought: this would not be simple.

Saturday came and found Christopher Brandon anything but late at John's party. He did not care how pathetic he was acting, but he was not going to miss one minute of Marianne's company. Of course he would not be able to have her all to himself all afternoon, but perhaps there was a chance of a shared drink and some conversation. For once he would not have to be so much on his guard, since this was clearly downtime for both of them and in a moment of courageousness he had decided to test the waters a little. Marianne would not be a trainee at his company for forever, and perhaps if there was some indication of mutual interest beyond getting along nicely at work, he could allow himself to hope that his age was not a massive deterrent to Marianne.

Marianne and her family arrived soon after two, all crammed in Edward and Elinor's little Corsa. Brandon held himself back from rushing over to greet them – he felt like they were his guests, somehow – and reminded himself that John was the host and would eventually bring them all around for the introductions. Luckily he did not have to wait for too long.

"Ah, Christopher, there you are!" John greeted him, having the Dashwoods and Ferrars in tow. Along the way Adele Jennings had joined her son-in-law and Brandon was not quite sure if he liked the excited look the woman was sporting. He was well aware how involved she usually was in John's matchmaking efforts.

Short introductions were shared. Brandon had met Edward Ferrars once or twice before, though very shortly, but his impression of the man was quite strong: good, sensible type. Brandon felt Ferrars was someone he could get along quite well if they ever happened to be in each other's company, but this did not surprise him at all. After all, this was Elinor's husband and she would never have fallen in love with someone anything less in character than Edward Ferrars. Mrs Dashwood, or Anne (everyone insisted on first names immediately), gave him an oddly curious look, but Brandon tried to ignore this. It was probably just because the two daughters worked in his firm. Margaret made him smile. There wasn't another teenager anywhere near here and the girl seemed to sense this. Accepting her faith she allowed her mother and sisters to drag her about today and had decided to be polite to everyone and endure the afternoon. Maybe he should show the girl his horses in John's stables? All girls liked horses, right?

"Nice to meet you all, and good to see you again, Elinor, Marianne," Brandon completed the introductions round and immediately addressed Marianne again:

"Marianne, when you need to head back, just let me know and we'll get you a taxi, on me."

Marianne's eyes widened a little. A taxi from here to North London would cost the earth, but luckily she wasn't going to need one.

"Thank you so much, but it's quite all right. A friend of mine said he'd come and collect me later on," she quickly explained. Was there a flash of disappointment in Christopher Brandon's eyes? It was at this point at Adele Jennings decided to poke her nose in:

"A friend? A boyfriend? Why did you not bring him to the party?"

Marianne could not help but blush. Elinor saw this and her eyes quickly sought out Christpher, just in time to see his demeanour darken a shade. Had he hoped to take Marianne home from here? Really?

"Oh, no, well… no he's not a boyfriend, as such…" Marianne stumbled on her words and everyone could see that even if this boy and Marianne had not yet established exclusiveness, it certainly was implied.

"Why don't we have something to drink?" Brandon then took over and gestured towards the open bar. He certainly felt like a drink now. Of course the girl had young men around her and what the hell had he been thinking, testing the waters for mutual interest? What utter idiocy on his part. But he could not hold any of this against Marianne. She was a beautiful young woman and he wanted her everything good. Hopefully this boy was worthy of her, is all Brandon could wish for.


	6. Chapter 6

If Only I Could

Chapter 6

Over the course of the afternoon Sir John had introduced Marianne and her sisters to a number of young people from various companies and charities John was connected to. Of course these parties were not just about having a bit of fun and filling his house (and garden) with people, but also about connecting those who have money with those who could do with more of it. Preferably needing it for decent purposes like cancer or dementia research, or making care homes and hospices up to decent standards. He was also trying to see if he could get his friend connected to that delightful Dashwood girl. The share wavelength between the two had been plain as day to him when the Dashwoods had arrived, but the revelation of a potential boyfriend had all but killed off any chances of Brandon and Marianne somehow getting together tonight.

As it was, Sir John observed his friend from a distance and saw him enjoying the bar much more than usual. Christopher Brandon liked to be in control of himself and rarely imbibed at the rate he did this afternoon. John made a mental note to have a bedroom readied for Brandon. The other thing John observed from the distance was Brandon not really letting Marianne Dashwood out of sights for any length of time. The man was watching the girl, though to give him credit it was not obvious in any way.

"Oh dear, poor Christopher – I thought there might have been a chance there," Sir John's mother-in-law commented as she joined him at his observation point. On the lawn, Marianne and Elinor were in the mids of a game of Frisbee golf with a group of young men and women from Cure Diabetes. On the sun terrace, not far from the bar, trying to bury himself in a large bush, was Christopher Brandon seemingly enjoying his drink whilst checking his messages on his phone.

"Yes, I was worried she'd find someone else but didn't expect it just yet. Not surprising, really, considering how our dear friend there has made sure to pull away and not give her any indication of interest. He is one difficult fellow, I give you that." John explained.

With their attention so fully on Brandon, neither Sir John nor Adele Jennings noticed the tentative glances a certain Marianne Dashwood was making at the man they were observing. Elinor noticed her sister's sporadic lack of attention to their game, but wasn't sure if she should say something. The further into the decorative plants Christopher Brandon seemed to disappear with his solitary drinks, the more concerned Marianne's expression seemed to turn and finally Elinor decided to act.

"Is something wrong between you and Christopher?" she started. Marianne stared at her, searching for words. Clearly she hadn't thought anyone would notice.

"No… No… Or shouldn't be. But he's just pulling away from everyone." Marianne finally said. Elinor was not buying this.

"Look, Marianne. I've seen the two of you together, remember? I've sat at café's and lunches with you and I was there when he came to greet us just now. Are you two involved and not telling anyone?"

Marianne looked at her sister properly now, not saying anything at first, but the blush that crept onto her cheeks was telling.

"You are…" Elinor started, but Marianne caught hold of herself.

"No, honest Elinor, we're not involved, not like that…"

"Like what?"

"Like… well, not like we'd ever said anything, but I can't deny that I find him very appealing, and we get on so well and I really like his company and…", Marianne wasn't quite able to finish her sentence. She had hardly allowed herself to acknowledge these feeling and instincts to herself, let alone talk to anyone about them.

"Anyways, it's not like anything could come of it. I work for him." Marianne concluded.

"And has he said anything?"

"No. But there are times when I get a feeling that he might like me too. He would never do anything, though. Why would he? It's a different world from ours where he lives in. I mean, I know you're friends and all that, but he wouldn't be interested in someone like me for anything more than maybe being friends. You're clever and organised and efficient and clear headed and all that. You and him, you're alike. I'm too young and flaky." Marianne was staring at the lawn now. Elinor managed to notice it was their turn in the game and they paused their discussion for a short while.

"Then why did he get so upset when you said you had a potential boyfriend pick you up from here? And why do you have a potential boyfriend at all when you haven't cleared your situation with Christopher?" Elinor was almost reprimanding her sister now.

"I don't know! Like I said, we've no understanding with Christopher, and the way he is I'm absolutely certain there is no chance of anything developing between us. I think it's for the best if I just move on and hopefully we can all be friends." Marianne tried to explain, getting a little frustrated. If there was a chance with Christopher Brandon, she'd be happy to explore it. It mattered none to her that he was older and if he would overlook her flakiness, then she was selfish enough to hope that he knew what he was doing. But there was little chance of any of it so she might as well get on with her life.

"Will you talk to him? Before you go?" Elinor suggested. Marianne looked uncertain, and Elinor continued:

"You don't have to tell him you fancy him or anything, just reassure him of your friendship at least, I think he deserves it. I think he probably feels a lot like you but he's so very private, Christopher."

"I doubt it. But you're right. I should have a word. Not sure what I'll say, but I'll see if I can catch him on his own before I go." Marianne agreed.

An hour or so later it was nearing the time John Willoughby had said he'd come to collect Marianne. Marianne had not been able to clear the conversation she'd had with her sister out of her mind and wondered if it could be true: if Christopher Brandon might just be interested in her as more than just friends. Marianne saw her opportunity to talk to the man when she saw him go inside the building. By then the Frisbee golf was well over and she'd been standing with a drink, chatting to Edward and some City banker types. Utterly boring boys with such opinions of themselves, and completely bewildered when Edward revealed he was a nurse! She excused herself, and hurried after Brandon, hoping he wasn't leaving just yet.

She saw him slip out of the room as she came in from the terrace, and half running she followed him to the next room. A library of sorts. He was about to plant himself into a high back armchair when she slipped into the room as well.

"Christopher?" she started. What was she going to say? They'd never acknowledged anything, she could only refer to the feeling she had that they had some sort of a connection between them. What if she'd imagined the whole thing?

"Marianne," he simply acknowledged and turned to her. She could see he'd had a few. Concern for him now became prominent feeling in her. She did not want hurt him, and if the sadness she saw in his eyes right now was her doing she'd have to try and make it right.

"Is everything all right, Christopher?" she asked, approaching him. He shrugged, almost spilling some of his drink. Marianne took hold of the drink and put it down on a coaster on the little occasional table by the armchair. Then she fixed her eyes on his, waiting for his answer.

"Just fine, Marianne, don't worry about me," he said softly.

"I have a feeling that I've hurt you somehow," the direct approach would be the best one, Marianne decided.

"You couldn't possibly," he protested, but Marianne was not completely convinced and she kept her eyes on his to push him to continue.

Brandon let out a deep sigh. She was going to make him confess to his condition and he realised that in his state of mind he would not be much good at holding himself back. He had indulged in far more drink this afternoon than normally in company, and he had allowed himself to wallow in his sorrow of not having a chance with Marianne. The more he had looked at her today the more he had realised he wanted her. In every sense of want.

"Look, Marianne. I don't want to burden you with anything…" he started.

"It's not a burden. You're my friend. More, really…", she interrupted him. Brandon stared at her. More?

"Marianne, I don't expect you to reciprocate in any way, or even to really understand, but when you said you had someone to pick you up today, I just became a little disappointed. Not with you, no, of course not, but with myself. I can't deny that I find you interesting and appealing and that in another time and place perhaps it would have been possible for me to ask you out with me. Properly. I know I cannot, but all the same this afternoon the idea that someone else does have that possibility and the opportunity to ask for your affections did get to me. That's all. It's not your fault." Brandon explained, shifting his gaze away from her. This is when she could scoff or laugh, whatever.

For a moment Marianne just looked at him. He was interested in her?

"What do you mean, wrong time and place?" she almost whispered.

"I'm your boss, and I'm too old to try and woo someone as lovely as you," he explained, looking at her again. And goodness if she wasn't lovely. His hazy brain now concluded that he could happily give an arm or a leg just to embrace her and kiss her just once.

"And if you were not my boss?"

"Still too old."

"Wouldn't I have a say in that?"

"No."

"Even if that was to say that I find you interesting and appealing as well? That I feel as we have a very special connection between us?"

It was Christopher Brandon's turn to look at Marianne. She looked so very sincere and honest he really wanted to believe her. Perhaps she believed all those things right now, but it wasn't real. There would never be this moment in time again, and something happened to his self restraint and he stepped in to close the gap between them. She kept her eyes on him and the tension between them was so thick you could shovel it into a pile. Then he placed his hands on either side of her face, tilting her face up towards him and he leaned in to kiss her. A soft, tentative touch at first soon turned into so much more when she caught on to what he was doing and reciprocated without restraint. Her arms reached around him to pull him closer and for a while the rest of the world disappeared for the two of them. The need for oxygen, however, didn't and eventually they slowed down and pulled apart, panting.

"What was that?" Marianne then whispered. She had loved the kiss, but there had been a tone of voice to it. That tone was not one of promise but one of goodbye.

"Something that will not happen again. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… I shouldn't have done that…just couldn't help myself."

"What do you mean it will not happen again?"

"Just that. There can never be anything between us. I want you to complete your traineeship and have an opportunity to carry on with us later. I want you to find your place in the world instead of me dragging you into something. I'm not someone you can build on, Marianne. I'm sorry." Brandon explained, suddenly somehow more sober, and he walked out of the room.


	7. Chapter 7

If Only I Could

Chapter 7

It took some time before Marianne quite understood what had happened. On one hand, she had never been kissed like that before, but on the other, no one had quite walked out on her like that before, either. Christopher had admitted to her that the connections she had felt really was there, that he was drawn to her like she was to him – and still he had walked away. There was little opening for a change of heart there, judging by the way he'd left. The rejection burned and Marianne tried to keep her tears in.

In a short while Elinor walked in. She'd noticed her sister go in after Brandon, but then she'd seen Brandon practically storm out again, talk to Sir John, and walk back in again. The door to the library was open when Elinor went to look for Marianne, and she found her sister standing there gobsmacked, nearly in tears.

"Oh dear, Marianne, what happened?"

"He most certainly is not interested in seeing me," Marianne stated flatly.

"Then why is he so upset, are you sure about that?" Elinor just couldn't understand any of this.

"Gods, he told me he would never ever want a relationship with me and he kissed me and it was like nothing on earth, and the he just stormed out. I'd say that was pretty definitive. He won't see past being my boss at the moment and that he's older than me. I think he was just trying to give some formal reasons so he wouldn't have to say that he might fancy me a bit but I'm just not his type. Why would someone like him want an airhead hippie like me…"

Elinor then hugged her sister. That didn't sound like Christopher at all, but how could she argue with Marianne, she hadn't been there to see what had happened. She'd try and get Christopher to say something later. Marianne took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together.

"No need to feel awkward about John picking me up, then," she simply stated and made her way back outside. When John Willoughby turned up soon after, Marianne was calm and collected and politely thanked Sir John and made her goodbyes.

From one of the upstairs windows a still too drunk Christopher Brandon looked at the unkempt looking dark haired boy who had turned up on a motorcycle, a spare helmet and a spare leather jacket in the saddle bag for his date. The lad gave almost hostile looks to everyone at the party as if wanting to stick two fingers up at the establishment, and then he'd almost dragged Marianne out by her arm. Brandon had a bad feeling about the boy, but surely he had just put an end to any and all rights to being involved in Marianne's life. The conflicting feelings he had were pressing on his heart like cold brick.

The following morning found Brandon in one of Sir John's guest rooms, slowly waking up face down and his clothes on with a massive hangover. Had he stopped drinking after Marianne left? Of course not. Someone had been to cover him with a throw of sorts and left a shirt and a pullover on a chair near the bed. The en suite bathroom, as Brandon well knew, had all the necessary toiletries like a decent hotel would, and Brandon was very grateful for his friend's hospitality: he really felt like his head was full of cotton wool and a rat had crawled into his mouth to die. There was also a packet of ibuprofen in the bathroom, too, which Brandon accepted with even more gratitude. He should do something very, very nice to thank Delia, because all of this consideration to his wellbeing really had all the hallmarks of Lady Middleton's kindness.

It was only when he stood under the shower that his foggy brain started to clear enough to remember the previous afternoon.

"Oh gods…" he moaned, as he remembered the kiss and then the hurt on Marianne's face when he so bluntly rejected her and stormed off. "What have I done?" he thought, letting out a deep sigh. He then tried to convince himself that it really was for the best. He had decided long ago that he was not the type to have relationships and certainly not relationships with considerably younger, innocent, women who also worked for him. He wasn't a letch, for goodness sakes! It was a very small voice at the back of his slowly clearing head that tried to tell him that this was not 'relationships' in plural, but if this was to be it would be the one relationship he'd ever have and want. Brandon silenced the voice by trying to pull himself together and stepping out of the shower. Time to go downstairs and face the music. John was not going to let him off easy.

Brandon knew where to go find some breakfast. It wasn't that late yet and John normally sat around with his paper for a short eternity. Hearing John burst laughing at first sight of him did not surprise Brandon.

"Some friend you are," Brandon muttered as he headed for the coffee pot.

"Oh come on, you should see yourself, all sheepish as if you're a schoolboy caught having a fag behind the woodshop!" Sir John explained himself, but calmed down not wanting to embarrass his friend any more. There were some serious issues behind this whole sharade.

Brandon put some bread in the toaster and took his coffee to the table, not saying a word.

"What happened?" John eventually asked, seeing as his friend was not going to volunteer a thing. Brandon took a deep breath. He'd rather not say, but then again this was John's house and he hadn't exactly behaved.

"I shoved her away, that's what," Brandon muttered, staring at his coffee as if it was potentially going to attack him any moment.

"Shoved her away?"

"Yes, dammit. I wasn't going to say anything and I left the garden. I had too much to drink, see. Then she had to follow me into the house…"

"And perhaps she tried to approach you?" John tried to help the story along.

"Well… What was the point of that? She's got a boyfriend now, hasn't she. And she still works for me and she's still too young." Brandon almost spat the words and jumped up to get the rest of his breakfast when the toaster finished its job.

Sir John looked at his friend carefully. Brandon was in trouble. John hadn't seen him worked up about a person like this since, well perhaps ever! John could also see that he wasn't getting the full story.

"But that wasn't everything that happened, was it? I saw you go in, I saw her follow you, and then I saw Elinor follow you. I talked to Elinor but she wouldn't tell me all of it either. You have a very loyal friend there, Christopher, hope you know that."

"Yes, Elinor is one of a kind. But then so is Marianne. I kissed her."

"You kissed her? I thought you said you shoved her away?"  
"That too. I couldn't help myself. I thought that since this was the closest I'd ever get to her, I could give her a drunken kiss. And then I realized that I actually kissed, not just think I could. Then I shoved her away." Brandon wished the ground would open and pull him in. Certainly not his proudest moment. John mulled his confession over for a moment.

"No wonder the girl looked so shaken before she left."

Brandon's eyes darted to Sir John when he heard this.

"Shaken? Oh Gods, I attacked her…"

"No, I don't think that was it. Think about it man, she wants to be with you, you kiss her and then you kick her away. What is she supposed to think is going on?" Sir John tried to explain to Brandon.

"She doesn't really want me, don't be silly John! It's just all a novelty and a youthful folly," Brandon told his friend.

"Don't be so sure, Christopher. I saw how she looked at you yesterday, and I saw how she reacted to that shaggy hippie of a boy who came to get her yesterday. I think you can still set this right, you know."

Brandon had no answer to that. It was pointless arguing with John anyways. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a little seed of hope take root somewhere in his heart. Had he made a mistake last night, not letting go of his fears? What if his issues with her working for him and his age were just fears, excuses for not having to risk himself? He'd spent so long telling himself that he did not want anyone and no one could possibly want him. What if he was wrong? Elinor. He needed to talk to Elinor.


	8. Chapter 8

If Only I Could

Chapter 8

Marianne's evening, after leaving Sir John's party, had not gone swimmingly. Johnny had put on this odd attitude when he was picking her up, as if it was her fault that the Middletons were swimming in money. Marianne had found herself almost defensive about why she was perfectly within her rights to accept an invitation and that did not make her part of the oppressing classes or whatever. Johnny had mellowed soon enough, and Marianne reckoned it could have been an evening to start something nice had it not been for that kiss.

She'd really had to work overtime to get Johnny to understand that his hands were not going to reach anywhere near her breasts. She had a gig to play and she did not fool around on gig nights. Well, she didn't really fool around per se, but she didn't even entertain the prospect of fooling around with someone before the gig was done. They might not be a top order professional band, but they played well and prepared well for any performances they had and that meant they had a reasonably steady flow of party gigs. Finally Johnny had understood that this was just too early in their budding relationship for much more than holding hands here and there, and he had apologized and been a perfectly nice gentleman for the rest of the evening. She'd had to take a taxi home in the end though, seeing as Johnny was nearly legless by midnight.

It had been a bit difficult to try and get the boy to understand, in the state he was in, that Marianne thought it best if they called it a day and not go on after this evening. That this was most likely not going to work as a relationship. She hoped he'd remember that bit the following morning so she wouldn't have to say it all again. Any excitement or little butterflies she may have felt about Johnny Willoughby had pretty much disappeared the moment Christopher Brandon's lips had touched hers. She'd never have that again, but it didn't mean she'd be able to settle for someone else. This was one of the worst morning-afters for Marianne ever, and she hadn't even been drunk the night before!

Brandon had hardly made it home from the Middletons when his phone beeped with a message from Elinor. As much as he did not want to talk to her about everything he knew he had to and he rang her straight away.

"Christopher!" he heard relief in Elinor's voice. Was she concerned?

"Yes."

"Are you alright? You disappeared yesterday," Elinor explained her concern.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. And shouldn't you have said I disappeared after treating your sister like an utter bastard?" Brandon reckoned it was probably best to get straight to the point. His hangover was still as bad as ever, if not worse.  
"Well, I wasn't there to see it so all I know is what Marianne told me. And she didn't make much sense. Will you tell me your side?" Elinor coaxed him gently.

"I… I'm not sure what to tell you, Elinor. I lost it for a moment and I kissed her before I could stop myself," Brandon explained. What more was there to say?

"From Marianne I got the idea that you kissed her like you meant it but then pushed her away. That doesn't sound like you, Christopher."

"I shouldn't have kissed her. She has a boyfriend now and in any case I have no right to even hope that someone like her would be interested in… well… me," Brandon sighed.

"You do realize that Marianne fancies you too, don't you?" Elinor decided to make a blunt point.

"She can't. And anyways, I'm not really in a position to…"

"Oh cut the crap, it is 2013 after all. And she's a trainee who doesn't even work directly under you. There's no conflict of interest or preferential treatment if you're discreet, you know," Elinor kept driving her point in. Brandon couldn't get a word out.

"I've seen how you look at her, and the same with her. Last night she said she'd never been kissed like that and I could tell her knees were all wobbly. Don't you think you should talk to her?"

Brandon was silent again, trying to wrap his brain around the whole thing: she'd liked the kiss? His drunken idiot kiss? She fancied him?

"Ok. You're right. We should talk. I don't want to hurt her, you know?" He then replied.

"I know. But not dealing with this properly will hurt her. Why not give yourself a break and just see how things go?"

All Brandon could do for the rest of the day was to curl up on his bed for some more much-needed sleep that would hopefully shut down his brain that was only capable of thinking the lovely young woman whose lips had so called him to them yesterday. What he didn't know was that not too far from his house in the Dashwood family home that same young woman was curled up on her bed thinking of that kiss and ignoring the fourty-seventh text message from John Willoughby.


	9. Chapter 9

If Only I Could

Chapter 9

Marianne did not know what to expect when she showed up at work on Monday. One thing she knew for certain was that she'd better keep away from Christopher Brandon. As long as she worked here and was within the possibility of seeing him again, Marianne knew she would not be able to get him out of her mind. It was utterly strange how that kiss had switched on a whole array of feelings for that stubborn man. Before Saturday, she had been tentatively aware of their connection and started to wonder what it was. Then he kissed her and she knew there could be no one else for her until this situation was resolved one way or another. This morning she had started to veer towards "another": keep her distance until her traineeship was over and then try and avoid the man altogether until he was a distant memory. The only problem was that losing him before they could even try anything grated on her heart an awful lot.

The other thing Marianne did not know was that Christopher Brandon had had a fitful night, tossing and turning, trying to decide what to do. He knew that he could trust Elinor, and Elinor had said Marianne did not think he was an old letch. She was not nice to him just because he was friends with her sister and he was her boss. The two people whose opinion he valued had been kicking him up the backside about his views on forming an attachment with an employee. With a young employee at that! Add to that his growing desire for her and his feeling that she might just be someone who understood him and who could be gentle with him… clearly this was a losing battle?

He would have to try and fix things. And if she was going to be with that obnoxious boy then – well, it would hurt like hell. No other way out of it, Brandon decided to try and catch Marianne first thing in the morning and see if she'd go somewhere with him after work to talk. He'd beg her to let him apologize and explain, if need be. And so, in the early hours of the business day, Brandon positioned himself in the social area that connected his wing to the graphics wing and waited.

He did not have to wait for long. He'd been in early because he hadn't slept well, and when she walked in she was in this early for the same reason. She looked tired, her eyes were a little puffy and showed lack of sleep. She'd made an effort to cover it all up with make up, but he could see she had cried. He had caused that. Brandon wanted to kick himself.

She saw him almost immediately and stopped in her tracks, not sure how to go on. Neither of them got a word out at first, but simply stood there taking in the other's dishevelled appearances. Brandon managed to make the first move. He stepped towards her, grateful that the office seemed to be entirely empty still. Seven am clearly was not a popular time to start work in this company.

"Marianne? I'd like to… I mean… Do you think we could talk?" he said quietly. Marianne did not say anything at first, just kept looking at him. What he did not see was her internal struggle not to burst out in tears again. Was he going to go on telling her that he wouldn't have anything to do with her? She'd got that message already, thank you very much.

"I'd like to apologize for my behaviour…" he continued, sensing her insecurity.

Marianne snapped herself out of her haze:

"It's ok. You did that already. Don't worry, I'll keep out of your way…"

"No, oh no, please don't say that. I said things to you before I knew better. I'd like for us to be friends, at least…" Brandon interrupted her as he suddenly realized what she thought he was doing.

"Before you knew better?" Marianne did not quite understand him. Brandon sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair, trying to find the right words. Gods this was hard!

"If I've ruined any chance of being near you in any capacity at all, I understand. I was a right bastard on Saturday…"

"It's ok, you were drunk and perhaps said more than you would otherwise…"

"No! Having too much to drink is no excuse. I should never have said those things, and I should never have taken advantage of you that way."

Marianne cast her eyes down. So he did regret kissing her. A big mistake he was not apologizing for.  
"Please, Marianne. I so wanted to kiss you, but that's not the way it should have happened." Now Brandon got her attention again.

"What are you talking about?" Marianne then pleaded. He was making less and less sense. Brandon walked closer to her so that he could properly look her in the eye.

"Look, Marianne… I've been an ass. I know there's been a certain pull between us, and you put it into words on Saturday, opened yourself up to me and what did I do but shove it back in your face like some ogre. The thing is, I've been living in denial. Since Saturday I have basically been clipped around the ears by my best friends for being an idiot and pushing you away. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I also know that it may well be too late now for me to ask that perhaps you'd grant me another go at this? Would you let me take you out? Maybe spend some time with me so that we could see what this, this connection is about?" Brandon managed to get the words out better than he first dared to hope.

Marianne was gobsmacked. He wanted to spend time with her? He wanted to see if there really was something between them? Did she dare hope that this was all real?

"Gods, Christopher… This is so much," Marianne started. Part of her was rejoicing in her heart but another part was a little wary of the situation.

"Please, we don't have to rush into anything, but if you could just consider perhaps having a simple dinner with me tonight – or any night – and we can talk about this?" Brandon pleaded again. He could see she was still on the fence. He really had hurt her.

"All right, let's talk. I have to tell you, Saturday was hard for me, but I can't deny that I have to see this out. See what this is between us." Marianne finally agreed.

A co-worker came in through the doors just then and greeted the serious looking pair casually and thankfully did not linger for a chat.

"Well, not much peace in here for a while," Brandon said quietly and gave Marianne a lopsided smile. He looked a little forlorn and very cute at the same time and Marianne realised she had to hold herself back not to throw herself at him and hug him as hard as she could.

"Yes, it's going to be busy here now," she agreed.

"Shall I meet you outside after work? At four? Five?" he suggested.

"Make it five and I know I'll have time to finish something up, ok?"

"Ok."

And at that the two headed for their respective wings. Brandon could feel his hands tremble lightly. All with his great desire to just pull the girl to him and start whispering all manner of reassurance to her. The tight ball of emotions that had started to uncoil on Saturday afternoon was undoing itself so rapidly now Brandon wasn't sure if he remembered to breathe in Marianne's presence. This work day was going to be hell unless he could drown himself into something very, very active.


	10. Chapter 10

If Only I Could

Chapter 10

John Willoughby knew where she worked and he knew they kept reasonably to office hours. She should be done by five or soon after the latest. Just in case she was early, he had gone there on his motorbike and found a himself a good spot to wait for her. The bus stop almost opposite the office building's main entrance was a perfect place in case he had to wait for a long time. No one noticed people on a bus stop. At one point he saw that he could get himself a coffee without having to lose sight of the entrance, but he'd then taken his coffee back to the stop. She had ignored his calls and messages yesterday but he was determined to talk to her. She'd been leading him on, thinking she was interested in him and then suddenly she'd pulled away and wasn't even prepared to talk about it sober. There had to be someone else. Girls wanted to be with him, they didn't dump him. At least not before they even got started properly.

At five Willoughby started to get a little nervous. She still hadn't come out so surely she'd come any second now. But some guy had come out and was standing near the entrance. It would be hard to get Marianne to come with him if she was being stubborn. The guy might get the wrong idea if there was any argument. "Fuck of you square pillock," Willoughby cursed in his thoughts. For a moment it looked like the man started to walk off, but he only went a short distance to the pavement and stopped there, keeping his eyes on the building's entrance. Willoughby could only hope that Marianne would not make a fuss and just come with him.

Soon enough he spotted Marianne. She stopped outside the doors and looked around and Willoughby thought this was his chance. He started to cross the street, but almost immediately stopped in his tracks: Marianne had spotted whatever she had been looking for: that man! "Fuck," Willoughby hissed. He'd been right: she had someone else. "Bitch!" he spat, careful not to be too loud. There was nothing to it, he'd have to confront them. The man had guided Marianne to start walking away from the building and where Willoughby had been standing. It took Willoughby a moment to manoeuvre himself across the street with all the cars around, and he half ran after the pair.

"Marianne! Marianne!" he shouted as he got close enough. Marianne stopped and turned, looking rather shocked. Or guilty, Willoughby concluded. She had reason to feel guilty.

"What is this? Who is this guy? Why didn't you reply or answer yesterday?" Willoughby was spewing questions like they were accusations. He approached Marianne fast, ignoring the other man for now. He needed to show Marianne whom she was dealing with.

"Johnny!" she managed to gasp. Meanwhile Brandon had immediately identified the somewhat oily looking younger man. His attempt at the shabby bad-boy look looked no more impressive to him than it had on Saturday afternoon.

"Is this why you wouldn't be with me? This guy? You're fucking this posh pillock from your office, that's it, isn't it!" Willoughby continued throwing his accusations around. Marianne could hardly believe what she was hearing. This was so embarrassing and Christopher was right there. He'd surely re-evaluate whether he wanted to be associated with her now!

"No, Johnny, that's not it…" she tried to defend herself.

"Don't give me that, things were going nice on Saturday until something happened, what was it? He called you or something?"

"Johnny, no! You were drunk and I didn't want to go with you. And it just confirmed what I was thinking already. I don't want to be with you… You're scaring me now, please, you should go… " she tried explaining again. Technically, Johnny was not wrong: one big reason for not wanting to be with Johnny was her attraction to the man beside her who had just put a protective arm around her shoulders and gently manoeuvred himself to stand more between Marianne and John Willoughby.

"It's probably better that you go now," Brandon stepped in, talking in a calm, low voice.

"Stay out of this, I'm talking to Marianne," Willoughby said to Brandon and moved towards Marianne, managing to grab her by the wrist. She tried to pull away but the younger man's grip was unyielding.

"No, let me go!" Marianne shouted, but John Willoughby was past listening. Marianne had to listen to him, and he was going to make sure that she would. And when she listened to him, she'd know for sure she was supposed to be with him.

Before the situation had a chance to escalate any further, Brandon had moved quickly and suddenly had a vice-like grip on Willoughby's wrist and he'd managed to get hold of the man's other wrist as well, bending it behind the man's back, lifting the hand up towards the shoulder blades. By the time this movement registered with Willoughby and he let out a yelp in agony, Brandon's face was mere inches from his and there was no mistaking how serious the older man was. Willoughby's bravado escaped him and his knees just about went wobbly from the pain he was feeling and more so from Brandon's stare.

"I asked you to leave, the lady does not want to go with you an she does not want to see you," Brandon's voice was low and quiet, but there was no mistaking the menace in it. Brandon pressed harder on Willoughby's wrist, the one still holding Marianne's arm, and with a whimper the younger man let go. At that moment Brandon gave him a firm shove away from him and let go. Surely the cad got the message now.

"Fuck you! Both of you. I just wanted to talk to you!" Willoughby swore at them as he took steps backwards, nursing his wrist.

"Come, Marianne, let's get away from him," Brandon said quietly to Marianne as he collected the shocked girl under his arm by her shoulders and started to walk her away from the building and the younger man who was still retreating slowly. There was rage in Willoughby's eyes and Brandon was worried this would not be the end of the affair yet. He'd need to do something to make sure Marianne would not get ambushed like that again.

When Brandon looked down at the girl under his arm, he saw disbelief and shock and the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

"Shh, it's ok, it's over now. Let's find somewhere and have a drink, I think you could do with one," he kept talking to her quietly close to her ear. She started to take deep breaths, clearly trying to calm herself down.

Brandon saw a free black cab and hailed it over. The foody pub he'd intended to take her to in the first place wasn't that far away and so his original plan of taking her there in a taxi was still valid. The taxi driver saw the girl was upset.

"You all right there, love?" he queried carefully, watching the interaction between the pair. It looked like this fellow was not causing the young woman's anguish, but it never hurt to check.

"Yes, thanks, I'm fine," she managed to answer situating herself tightly under the man's arm as he again wrapped it around her shoulder. No, he was not the cause of her problems, the driver thought when he looked at her body language and the man's concerned face.

Quick instruction as to where to go saw the pair on their way. Brandon had already dreamed of having this woman in his arms, but this was not quite how he'd pictured it. What shook him was the strength of his emotional response to her pain: it grated him to see her upset and he knew he'd always do everything in his power for her not to feel like that again.

"How did you do that?" She asked after a little while. Marianne had finally pulled herself together and had conquered the tears that threatened to spill earlier. Brandon knew what she meant, the way he grabbed that fellow.

"I used to take part in all manner of wild and physical sport when I was still young and nimble enough," he brushed it off, not really wanting to get into detail regarding the ways he'd learned to let of steam in his late teens. He'd been a little hot headed in his youth and after getting into trouble once or twice he'd realised he needed to curb his temper.

"You all right?" he then asked, changing the focus back to her. She nodded, but despite still leaning onto him quite heavily she seemed a bit distant.

"Would you like me to take you home?" he then asked. Not ideal start to an evening with someone you're considering a relationship with. "What are those called", he mocked himself, "oh yes, a date."

Marianne was not sure. She was certain he'd be off her now for certain, and Johnny had spooked her rather badly. Then again, tucked away under Christopher's arm was the warmest and safest she'd really felt for a short eternity. How had she not realised she'd felt that insecure all this time? Christopher had saved her. Maybe she would have been able to shake herself free from Johnny there, but it would have taken a considerably more screaming and fighting. Christopher had diffused the whole thing before it truly started and he was holding her close. What she had felt when he kissed her was slowly coming back to her now and she decided to ignore the insecure part of her.

"No, it's ok. Let's do what we planned. I think I should perhaps explain what that was." She said to him.

The pub really was not far and quite soon they arrived. It was a little early for the dinner crowds and Monday was not the most popular evening for after-work drinks either so the pair were able to pick a nice corner table near a window. Brandon left Marianne at the table to get drinks. She had asked for a red wine but he returned with two brandies.

"He'll bring us a bottle in a bit, but I thought we could do with something sturdier first," Brandon explained. Marianne gave a nervous laugh. He was probably right – after all her hands were still shaking – it was just that she wasn't really too accustomed to strong drinks like brandy. All the same, she had a sip of it and tried not to make too much of a face as the burning liquid washed over her tongue and down her throat. The effect seemed to be immediate and Marianne found herself taking calmer breaths already.

"I'm so sorry about that," she then started to explain.

"It's ok…"

"No, it's not really. Not ok. He shouldn't have done that."  
"He's the lad who picked you up on Saturday," Brandon then stated. He didn't want to ask her, and yet he desperately needed to know what was going on. Surely she wouldn't be here if she was spoken for? No, that's not what that scene was about.

"Yes, he picked me up. You saw him?" she realized. So Christopher must have been watching her even after he'd strormed off.

"Anyways, I haven't really been seeing him that long. You know, nothing definite, just a bit of fun company among mutual friends. He wanted to come to our gig with me on Saturday so I suppose that made it a bit like a date. Except he kept drinking all night and did not really behave in a way that made me want to see him again. Couldn't keep his hands to himself even after I told him several times. So I told him that was it, as clearly as I could, except of course he was probably too drunk to take it in. I suppose I should have taken at least one of his calls yesterday morning to tell him again, but I just froze. Didn't want to have anything to do with him, really." Marianne explained. Brandon listened quietly, not wanting to interrupt her with questions, not wanting her to think he was judging her. So she had a bad date after he'd made it rather clear to her that there was to be nothing between her and himself. She wasn't in an exclusive relationship with either of them and realising this lifted a heavy stone off his chest.

Instead of saying anything he tentatively reached across the table where her hand was playing with the stem of the brandy glass. With his finger he very tentatively and lightly stroked her knuckles. Their eyes met and he was searching for the right words.

"What he chose to do there was not your fault."

"He seems to think I've led him on…"

"That's his problem. I can promise you one hundred per cent that the responsibility for such conclusions lie with him. You're allowed to try and get to know someone before deciding whether a relationship moves forward," he said to her as calmly as he could, keeping his eyes on hers.

"Is that what we'll do, try and get to know each other?" she then asked quietly.

"I would be most honoured if you still saw me as someone you'd like to know better," he answered equally quietly.

She turned her hand from playing with the glass stem and slipped it under his hand and took hold of it gently.

"The whole truth about breaking it off with him before anything ever even started was that I couldn't stop thinking about you. Does that shock you?" Marianne confessed. Brandon still kept his eyes on her, then grasped her hand more firmly.

"It surprises me, in the best way possible. I have not been able to stop thinking about you either."


	11. Chapter 11

If Only I Could

Chapter 11

"Why does it surprise you?" Marianne asked. Why was it, indeed, so hard for him to think that he was attractive to someone? His thumb stroked her hand in an almost absent minded way.

"You are beautiful and you absolutely radiate a very special, positive energy and you could have your pick of fun and dashing and outgoing young men out there. I feel I would be a poor substitute. You're full of life and there are adventures just waiting for you."

Marianne thought about what he was saying. Well, she thought about it and she also frantically tried to keep her pulse down – to hear of his esteem for her like this was overwhelming.

"You make it sound as though you're already past adventures," she replied.

"I do worry that I am, Marianne," he said quite seriously.

"Do you think we could find that out rather than worry about it?"

Brandon didn't know what to say. He saw that she was probably as nervous about everything as he was, but she was prepared to steel herself and face the situation. If she could do that, with everything she'd been through recently, then surely he could, too?

"I would, very much, like us to get to know each other better, Marianne," he said looking into her eyes. Marianne was almost scared to breathe lest she broke the spell. They were very serious and these were very serious decisions. This man did not take relationships lightly.

"I would like that very much, too, Christopher," she replied. And almost that moment they had to snap out of the moment as the barmaid arrived with their red wine and the menus. They kept their eyes on each other and exchanged a light laugh, acknowledging a kind of an agreement they had just entered into.

The mood lightened somewhat as they picked a light dinner and started their wine. Yes, their initial feelings for each other already seemed quite deep, but that did not mean they had to keep swimming in deep waters. It was good to just spend time together, on their own. No Elinor or Sir John or barbeque parties around them. No need to keep topics generic and be careful not to touch a hand or even flirt a little bit.

Butterflies was not quite enough as a word to describe how Marianne felt. Only yesterday she'd been curled up on her bed and crying on and off for the insanity of everything: the strength of her response to Christopher's drunken kiss and wanting more of it, then equal strength to Johnny's advances but at the opposite end of the scale, repulsion. They had, in silent agreement, decided that they'd had enough of the deep and serious in terms of topics for tonight and their conversation circled around just finding out more about each other. Christopher was interested in her studies and plans, Marianne wanted to know about his training and how he started his company.

Dinner came and went, so did the bottle of wine and a bottle of mineral water. The pub, despite it being Monday, did gradually fill up, and only after coming back from the gents did Christopher notice how much louder they were having to talk in the crowded establishment. But it wasn't late yet, not eight, and he was reluctant to call an end to their evening. Their date, dare he call it? He had an idea.

"It's getting a bit loud in here, I think," he said when it was her turn to come back from the ladies'. She nodded in agreement.

"Would you like to go for a walk? I mean, I can take you home, too, if you prefer…" he then suggested. For a short moment Marianne was afraid he wanted to end the evening. Well, it wouldn't be unreasonable, they'd been at the pub for nearly three hours. Only as a second thought she realised he was actually suggesting the opposite, but ever the gentleman he wanted to give her the option of calling it a night.

"I'd love a walk, it's quite early still."

They walked in relative ease a short distance up Muswell Hill, chatting about living in North London, and when the opportunity came they slipped into Alexandra Park to get away from the traffic. It was getting dark but the main routes were lit and it was nice and quiet. It was perhaps the quiet that also silence the couple's light conversation. The lack of crowds suddenly highlighted their sense of being alone in each other's company and that had great significance. A question hung in the air.

"Christopher?" Marianne decided to approach the subject first.

"Yes?"

"How are we going to do this?"

Brandon wasn't sure what she meant.

"I, just, I mean, I know that it's important to you to maintain an impartial position at work. And I don't want people thinking I'm only there because I have your attention..." she let the rest of it hang in the air. Christopher understood. All too well. He hated having to suggest this but in all honesty he couldn't think of anything else.

"Yes, I've worked hard at being an all-round fair boss and maintain such a relationship with everyone. And office romances don't tend to improve the overall atmosphere in places. There are couples there, but they're usually long established before they come out, as it were, and they're discreet about it. It's not in any way a reflection on you, but I wouldn't be comfortable if we were openly having a relationship while you work for me. Do you understand what I mean? It's not that I'd be ashamed of you or didn't want to be seen with you. Gods, I'd be proud to have you by my side in all manner of situations – but this is too fresh to be thrown out in the open," he tried to explain. Marianne did understand.

"We'd be open to all manner of speculation if we do this openly. I agree with you – it could look like you just pulled a trainee and that could affect the atmosphere. There's also another thing."

"What's that?" He asked.

"I'd like to get to know you in private first. Just us. I don't want to talk to my mother or to explain this to anyone for a while. I just would like us to take time just the two of us in quiet and see what's what. Does that make sense?" she explained.

Brandon stopped walking and she did as well. They were facing each other, looking each other in the eye, not saying anything for a while. Finally Brandon let a small smile grace his face.

"I knew you'd understand," he said quietly. Marianne smiled back at him.

"I'll be finished with the traineeship soon enough and we can do anything we like after that."

Brandon smiled a little more broadly at that, then turned to continue walking again, only this time he reached and took her hand in his. He had enjoyed her touch at the pub and had simply been waiting for a convenient opportunity to claim her touch again.

Their little walk was simply a twirl along the paths in the park but eventually it was time to call it a day. Christopher led her back onto Muswell Hill and started to keep an eye out for a taxi.

"Where do you live? I'll take you home."

"Rosebury Gardens. But you can drop me off on the Broadway or anything. If Mum sees you drop be off that's the end of us trying to keep this under a hat," she said with laughter. He laughed with her.

"True. Ok, I'll drop you off at the top of your street, is that ok? I don't want you alone on the street tonight…" he let slip. His concern for her safety had not really disappeared tonight, but he hadn't really meant to remind her of that altercation. Marianne went serious immediately.

"If he's there I don't know what I'll do. But I can promise you he'll not take me by surprise like that again. I'll not let him near me." Marianne solemnly vowed, as much to herself as to Christopher.

"You know, just in case, I'll take you as close to your house as I can and I'll wait until I see you go in. No arguments." Brandon said, gently taking hold of her upper arms and turning her to him, seeking her eyes, making her understand how serious he was. Marianne nodded. She wanted to be brave, she wanted to think that she would be able to deal with John Willoughby if he showed up again, but what happened earlier still distressed her too much.

Eventually a taxi came and took them to Crouch End. At the top of Rosebury Gardens Marianne instructed that Christopher could leave her there.

"Look, our house is just there, the third one," Marianne showed. Brandon got out of the taxi so that he could offer his hand to her and help her out. Not that she needed help but any chance to make the night last just a little longer and to touch her again was much appreciated.

"Ok, I'm sorry if I'm being overbearing but I'll just see that you get in and then go, if you don't mind," he said as they stood there on the side of the street facing each other. Neither made a move one way or the other, pondering the appropriate etiquette for this moment.

"Thank you, Christopher, for everything tonight. I've really had a nice time with you and I'm glad we had a chance to talk like this. And thank you for helping with Johnny. I really had no idea he could be like that…"

"Please, don't thank me. I'm just glad he didn't catch you on your own. And for the rest of it, I should be thanking you. The way I behaved on Saturday I was certain you'd never want to talk to me again." Brandon interrupted her.

Marianne thought about that, and she thought about the way that kiss had made her feel and in a flash of bravery she decided she'd like to feel that again.

"I really liked your kiss, but we didn't quite end it the right way. Do you think we could re-do it?" She asked quietly, but with notable cheek. Brandon just looked at her in disbelief for a moment: she was reading his mind!

Without a word he leaned down, and she was quick to read his movement and reached up to meet him half way, and when their lips finally touched it did not matter that the taxi was still waiting for Brandon to get back into it, or that Marianne's house was just a few yards down the street or that there were still some people on the street. Marainne's heart was pounding and she wrapped her arms around his neck, just as she'd done on Saturday, to hold him closer to him. His arms went around her waist and pulled her tightly against him and they had no idea how long this kiss took. It was gentle, yet exploring without going too far. Finally they eased out of it by the way of smaller, shorter little gentle touches and finally a gasp of air. Brandon kept his forehead against hers as they collected themselves. He then pulled away a little, keeping his eyes on hers.

"Goodnight, Marianne. That was beautiful. You are beautiful. We'll be in touch tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes, Christopher. Tomorrow. Good night," she said, and he slipped away from her arms and back into the taxi. The taxi didn't move, as he had said, and with a little wave of her hand she ran the few steps to her house, took her key and opened the door. For one more time she turned around to look where the taxi was, where Christopher was inside the taxi, and gave a small wave. The taxi took off.


	12. Chapter 12

A friendly note! The present story is about to change its rating to M, starting from chapter 13. I hope this doesn't put anyone off reading it, and anyone still wishing to read it can find easily. Thank you! G.

If Only I Could

Chapter 12

Tuesday morning witnessed Marianne arriving at work early again, excitedly making sure she'd notice if Christopher was anywhere to be seen, but at the same time trying to appear as normal as anyone arriving at work that early in the day. They'd agreed to keep things under a hat for the time being but that agreement did very little towards curbing the butterflies in her tummy. That kiss! She'd need to keep herself in check today not to daydream about any future dates when she was supposed to be working. This was just it: they could have a go at this relationship if it did not cause problems otherwise.

At her desk, armed with a mug of coffee, Marianne checked her e-mail. There shouldn't be much, considering she'd left at the end of business hours yesterday and was among the first people in this morning. Nothing new, but suddenly her phone beeped. "No one messages me this early, ever," she thought as she dug her phone out: a number she did not recognise.

"_Marianne, I just noticed you went online at work so I dare hope I'm not messaging you too early. How are you? C."_

The girl almost squealed at excitement when she realized it was Christopher. He'd gone and found her number! They hadn't even thought of exchanging numbers yesterday. She quickly saved the number and thought about a reply.

"_Christopher! How lovely to hear from you this early – didn't expect to. __ Are you at work? Any chance of seeing you today? Don't worry, I understand if you're busy."_

She meant it, too. Of course it was fun to think in a romantic girlie way about this budding romance and the lovely first date last night (and actively forget about that idiot Johnny), but this was a grown up relationship. She almost liked that part the best, having a real relationship and not just some vague "let's hang out" type of a deal. All the same, she was not able to drag her attention back to her e-mails whilst waiting for his reply: she simply sat there with her phone in one hand, staring at the screen, and her mug of coffee in the other, sipping it as a way of distraction. The next message would probably define her day.

"_I'm sorry, but I have to be at meetings with one of the big customers today. My presence was requested rather at the last minute. I'll be in the City all day and probably have to smooch them with dinners after. And tomorrow is the same. I had hoped to see you for coffee or lunch or even another dinner today, but alas! Can I msg from time to time? Maybe we can do something later this week?"_

"_You poor thing, having to do your big boss job! Of course it would have been wonderful to see you today (and tomorrow) but can't be helped. We'll make up for it later? Please msg me when you can. Sorry to be girlie, but I keep thinking about last night and what a great time I had with you."_

"_Later then!"_

"_Yes, later – take care."_

Marianne could have gone on and on about last night, but she was proud of herself for keeping her cool. For the most part, anyway.

It did not take long into the morning before Elinor got in touch with Marianne to suggest lunching together. Marianne also suddenly realised that Elinor had not been in touch with her the day before, and in her fretting about seeing Christopher, Marianne had not been in touch with Elinor either. Coincidence? She thought not. They decided to make use of a sunny day and took sandwiches to a nearby patch of green and trees.

"So, Mum told me you were home late yesterday" was Elinor's opening.

"Did she? I didn't think it was that late…" Marianne tried to be evasive. Keeping things under lid with Christopher was going to be difficult if her family worked out she was seeing someone. Mind, Elinor knew more than anyone already. Her attempts at denying anything were probably in vein.

"I'm just teasing you, darling. I know Christopher took you out." Elinor let her sister off the hook then. Marianne just stared at Elinor.

"He's my friend and he rang me on Sunday. Full of remorse and agonising over behaving like a shit. I told him to talk to you. I saw him yesterday and he told me he'd see you after work. Did it go ok?" Elinor explained. Marianne nodded, still wondering exactly how much of last night she was comfortable sharing. She decided her sister should know something.

"It was good. No, better than that. I'm glad we did it, because Sunday was awful. Saturday night was awful already, then Johnny was a moron so it turned out to be even more awful and then I just wallowed in it all on Sunday." Marianne started and took another bite of a brie and tomato baguette.

"Yes, well. Apparently Christopher had a bit of a skinful after you left and was full of regrets on Sunday. I understand John had given him a kick up the backside and then he rang me. Poor fellow."

"Yes, well. I wasn't quite sure how I felt when I saw him yesterday morning. Honestly, I thought he'd just apologize for his behaviour and ask politely not to have anything to do with me." Marianne confessed. Elinor sighed in sympathy.

"But he didn't did he?"

"No, not at all," and just thinking about their talk last night made Marianne smile. Thinking about that kiss made her eyes glass over and lose track of where she was.

"That good, eh?" Elinor's teasing snapped Marianne out of it.

"Well, yes. It was. He's really lovely. And he's a right gentleman, too!" Marianne then perked up, remembering the incident with Johnny. It had been awful, but somehow the way the evening had ended had almost made Marianne forget about how it started. She told Elinor what had happened and how Christopher had protected her.

"I just hope that idiot took the hint, finally," Marianne finished her story. Just as she did, her phone beeped for a message. Pulling her phone out of her bag while taking another bite of her sandwich she checked the message: it was from Christopher.

"_I hope your having something nice for lunch in good company? With Elinor, perhaps? Hope you don't mind that I have talked about our thing with her yesterday – I just needed some sound advice. I'm stuck with these corporate types at some pretentious sushi place and they all pretend to be real connoisseurs.. Say hello from me!"_

Marianne stared at the message a little too long and smiled a little too warmly for Elinor to have any doubts as to where the message had come from.

"What's he saying then?"

"What, who?" Marianne snapped out of her daze again.

"Christopher Brandon! Obviously it's a message from him," Elinor teased her sister again, smiling broadly. It warmed her heart to see her sister this smitten.

"Oh, he's just asking if I'm having lunch with you and says hello. He's apparently not having the best of time with the customers."

"Say hello back," Elinor said, continuing with her sandwich.

"_Yes, lunch with E. We're at the square with sandwiches. Hope you'll be free of any less-than-nice obligations soon. E says hello back. And I don't mind you talking to E – it's nice to have a confidante. xx"_

And it was. Nice to have a confidante, that is. Marianne told Elinor how they had decided it would be for the best to not rush things and to keep quiet about seeing each other until they could tell what shape this thing of theirs was taking. Elinor, naturally, understood very well, and promised to help. Marianne did not want even their mother to know yet, and Elinor promised to keep mum as well as she could – but reminded Marianne that there would be no guarantees what would happen if Sir John ever found out. It probably meant that Adele Jennings would be among the first to know as well.

"We'll just have to deal with that if and when it happens," Marianne pondered, and continued:

"It's just so precious, this. I've never known anyone like him and I've certainly never felt like this about anyone I've only known for a short time. I'd just like to get a little closer to him before everyone and their mothers start to fuss about it."

In the course of the day and the next day Christopher and Marianne exchanged a number of short messages about nothing particular. Not a word was said, but they both treasured these little messages regardless of their lack of actual content. The act of sending them and replying to them was the real message, after all. It was the evening of the second day when Christopher finally rang Marianne.

"Is it a good time to talk?" he confirmed first. He did not want to put Marianne in an awkward position. She understood what he meant.

"Yes, it's fine, I'm just in my room. I'm on my own," she said, making herself comfortable on her bed and trying hard not to sound overeager like some teenager. They talked about what they'd been up to, catching up on things for a bit, but eventually Christopher realised he'd have to be brave and ask what he was calling about in the first place.

"Do you have anything planned for tomorrow evening? I mean, would you be free to see me?"  
"No, I haven't anything. I've band practice later tonight but nothing tomorrow. I'd love to see you."

"Excellent… erm… this might sound a little forward, but I was wondering…"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to come to my house for dinner if I cook?" he then asked. Only their second date and he was already asking her to come to his place. There was a short silence on the line. Or long, if you asked Christopher. "Gods, she thinks I'm too forward…" he started to think and thought it best to explain himself.

"It's just that if I see another restaurant this week I'll probably end up murdering some poor unexpecting waiter or maître…"

Marianne giggled on the phone and a sense of relief came over Brandon.

"Oh, you poor thing! Has it been that horrid?" Marianne expressed her sympathy but did not really wait for an answer.

"Of course your place is fine. You'll have to tell me where to come and when, but I'd love to see where you live."

Both were smiling broadly. Marianne meant it: it would be great to see where lived and what his place was like. A very good way to maybe get to know him a little better. Christopher Brandon smiled because he'd have her all to himself in a comfortable (he hoped for her too!) setting without the hustle and bustle of other punters. He'd be happy to see Marianne just about anywhere and for her he'd tolerate another restaurant as well if absolutely necessary, but it would just be so much better to be able to have a quiet drink and really talk.


	13. Chapter 13

If Only I Could

Chapter 13

"Do you think she's very serious about that boy?" Anne Dashwood asked Elinor, half whispering in case Marianne was still at earshot. They'd finished dinner and nearly finished clearing the kitchen, too, when Marianne's phone had beeped (yet again) for a message and the girl had excused herself. It took Elinor a moment to get her brain into gear and not correct her mother. Marianne didn't want anyone to know about Christopher Brandon, but clearly she hadn't told anyone about finishing it with that Johnny either.

"Oh, I don't know. Why?" The best strategy, as far as Elinor could see, would be to keep her mother talking and offer as little information herself as possible.

"Well, her phone's going all the time with messages now. It wasn't like that at all before. And she's had mysterious phone calls in her room, too. Of course I can't hear what she's saying and I wouldn't listen, but I've noticed. And she's sitting on cloud nine, for goodness sakes. Surely you can see that too?" Anne explained. Marianne was clearly working overtime to look as if everything was as always, but mother's always know.

"Well, maybe there is someone, then. But she's met so many new people this summer at work. Professional people in her own field and all that, I'm sure she's made a whole bunch of new friends…" Elinor tried to be vague.  
"But what about that boy, the one who picked her up from the party?"

"I don't know, she hasn't really said…" Elinor lied. Oh dear, she didn't want to lie, but Christopher was involved. Had it been anyone else Marianne was falling for, Elinor probably wouldn't have agreed to keep mum, but with Christopher it was a different thing. He wasn't some random boy potential mother-in-law's could question or tease. Elinor understood perfectly well how a very private man like Christopher would like to see if a relationship was going anywhere before making any of it known.

Marianne suddenly popped back into the kitchen and, to Elinor's great relief, seemed oblivious of the conversation that had been going on there. Marianne's cheeks were slightly flushed and she was sporting a smile, her eyes bright. It was lovely to see her like this.

"Mum, I'm off to band practice in a minute. And I'll be out tomorrow night as well, ok? Just you'll know not to miss me," Marianne simply informed, and before anyone had a chance to respond, she was out the door again, grabbing her bag and then she was out the front door.

"You see? There's something special going on," Anne Dashwood pointed out to Elinor as she put down mugs of coffee for them.

Come Thursday evening, Christopher Brandon had been home most of the day, save the trip to get some ingredients in. The strawberry tartlets he had cheated with by buying them ready from a nice little artisan bakery not too far from his house, but otherwise he was having a go at it himself. He wasn't hopeless in the kitchen, he knew that – a bachelor his age should know how to put decent food on the table – but this was the first time she was coming to his house and the first time to cook for her and all that made Brandon a little nervous. He wanted this to be first time of many, and the way he'd been feeling since that date and the kiss the other evening he couldn't help but wish and hope that perhaps he'd get to put some breakfast on the table as well one day.

And yet at the same time his head was spinning: it was only a few days ago that he was trying to convince himself that Marianne surely couldn't possibly want him, and that he certainly was not going to take advantage of his position or her young enthusiasm. After Monday's talk he had decided to trust her judgement – he would never push her into anything, but he wouldn't discourage her either.

His hands and his whole body remembered exactly how she felt against him, what the curve of her waist and her hips was like under his hands and he had not been able to think of much else since. She wasn't a showy dresser. Her taste was more classy, even if it was clearly a bit budget-restricted. What she wore she wore well and everything he'd seen her in had made her look lovely. Well, all that was beside the point, he thought, as there was so much more to her that attracted him to her. And all he wanted was for her to have such a nice evening with him that she would want to come back.

He had considered going to the office this morning for at least half a day, but he'd soon realised all he'd do would be to think of excuses to go see Marianne. No work would get done. Not a lot would get done anyways, the way the place was usually when he'd been away for even a day. It was like everyone worked out that their ultimate Decision Maker had not been in, and suddenly felt the need to double check all of their own decisions with them before proceeding with their actions. They didn't do that when he was in, not so much anyways. He really should start some actions to reassure his managers that they really were trusted to do their job. A tiny little corner of his mind was already hopeful that he might have other things to think about one of these days than just his work.

As Brandon prepared the mackerel and what else he needed to prep for his dinner, all thought out carefully not to be the kind of dishes that were easy to fail just in case his nerves got to him, he was practically counting the minutes. He had asked Marianne to come around six, which meant they'd be eating by seven. He'd set the table and spent a good half-hour trying to decide what to put in the music system (some of Bach's Partitas, maybe?) before realising that he could never have the distraction of real music in the background if the idea was to spend time with Marianne. He just couldn't keep good music as background noise. They could listen to something together if she was that way inclined.

At Impressions, Marianne had pleaded being busy when Elinor had asked her for lunch. Same happened again in the afternoon, when it would have been a good time for coffee. At five Elinor was about to go home, but decided to go by Marianne's desk first. She wasn't buying any of this "busy" stuff – surely Marianne understood that one, Elinor knew about her and Christopher (they had talked, after all!), and two, Elinor had actually been at her mother's house when Marianne had announced she'd be out late today.

"So where are you seeing him?" Elinor asked as she got to Marianne's desk. The younger sister had not seen her arrive and jumped a little.

"Elinor, you spooked me!" Maranne exclaimed, and then realised what her sister had just said.

"And don't say stuff like that…" she hissed on, looking around to see in case there was anyone there who might have overheard.

"What, are you worried that someone might work out that you have a date? Don't worry, no one will know. Except be prepared to start talking to Mum about _someone_ – she thinks you're going out with that horrid Johnny," Elinor said.

Marianne rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I suppose eventually I'll have to come clean. But not yet. Absolutely not yet. I just want to hold on to this…whatever it is for a little longer. I didn't tell mum about breaking it off with Johnny just so that she wouldn't ask too many questions." Marianne explained.

"You never answered me, where are you meeting him, somewhere posh?" Elinor lightened the conversation up again, making silly eyebrows at Marianne as she suggested "somewhere posh". Marianne threw a paper clip at her sister.

"None of you business. But just because I love you I'll tell you he's asked me over to his, and he's cooking," she then explained, again in hushed tones just in case there was anyone left hiding in one of the open plan cubicles.

"Ooo! Well, this is serious!" Elinor continued with her light-hearted banter. Then, more serious, she continued:

"No, actually, it does sound good. He doesn't ask people over often. I've been to his house maybe three times, ever, and never for dinner. But I'd say you are going somewhere a bit posh. But in the best possible taste."

"Well, I know those houses – they're amazing and they all cost and absolute mint. I'm actually a bit worried about going there – aren't I just completely out of his league?" Marianne pondered.

"No Sweetie," Elinor answered after thinking about Marianne's problem for a bit. "Christopher just isn't like that. He didn't buy the house in order to show off. He bought it off the fellow who started the company with him. They were good mates, but then his friend got a bit overambitious with his own business deals and Christopher helped him out. This is quite a few years ago, before my time, really, but Christopher told me about it when I first visited the house. Christopher bought his friend out of Impressions so that the company wouldn't be jeapordised in any way, and then as a favour he also bought the fellows house on conditions that somehow suited the guy's financial obligations. It'll all be legal, of course, you know Christopher, but some clever corporate lawyer business will have been involved."

"He's such a curious man…" Marianne muttered.

"Mmm-hm," Elinor agreed. Then returned to the present.

"How will you get there?"  
"I thought I'll just get a bus up to the top and then walk," Marianne said. Simple enough, and Christopher could get her a taxi back. If she needed one. Oh Lords, she wanted to kick herself for thinking that just now. Elinor was bound to see her blushing, Marianne already felt the heat on her cheeks.

"You are going home, though? You know Mum will wait up?" Elinor said, but Marianne could hear she was teasing her again.

"Oh come on, Elinor!" Marianne huffed. Her sister laughed at her, but then got up from the edge of the desk where she'd been perched. Elinor leaned in and kissed her sister's cheek.

"You know I only tease you because I'm so very happy and pleased for you and Christopher, yes?"

Marianne nodded to say she knew that, really.

"But do snog him silly. He really needs it!" Elinor threw in as she left, practically giggling at Marianne's gobsmacked expression.

"And don't miss your bus!"

No, Marianne did not want to miss her bus. She wasn't prepared to admit it to Elinor, not too easily anyway, but "snog him silly" was one of the desired outcomes for tonight. What happened to "take our time"? Silly and constant messaging, that's what. And that kiss that made her knees weak just thinking about it. When she reached his house on The Grove and finally rang the doorbell it would not had been an exaggeration to say she was suffering a severe case of butterflies.

Brandon opened the door almost instantly, as if he'd been waiting by the door for her.

"Hello," she started, almost timidly.

"Hello, you found this place…" he replied and was almost equally nervous. For a moment they just looked at each other, not quite knowing what the correct protocol was: shake hands, a kiss on the cheek…? Both hesitated, then realised what they were doing and burst laughing at the same time. They were communicating again. Brandon reached forward and so did Marianne, and they greeted each other with a light but definitely more than a friendly kiss on the cheek.

"Please, please come in," he then guided her through the door. He took her in to the front room and she hardly got a word out, amazed at the gorgeous house and its beautiful décor.  
"Oh, I certainly found this place. It's only one of the most gorgeous streets in London." Marianne then found her voice again, remembering his greeting just now. He smiled. The house tended to have this effect on people.

"It's just a street that's been lucky enough not have been chopped up into too many small flats," he played it down. He hadn't bought the house for the effect. He'd done his old friend a favour and in the process he'd gained a beautiful, albeit too big, house.

"What would you like to drink? White wine? G&T? Vermouth?" Brandon now wanted Marianne get past the awe of his house and rather feel comfortable in it.

"Vermouth, sherry, anything, really, whatever you're having," she offered, again not knowing if there was some customary thing one was expected to have at a moment like this. She really felt like a fish out of water, suddenly getting a real glimpse of how different her life was to Christopher Brandon's.

"Vermouth it is then," he simply said, "please, make yourself at home," he continued and gestured at a huge sofa.

When he returned he could see how Marianne still held herself a little awkwardly. Finishing cooking the dinner could wait, he decided: they both needed to relax a little first. Brandon sat down next to Marianne on the sofa and handed her her drink.

"Everything all right?" he asked quietly. What if it wasn't the house or his posh street that was getting to her? A beautiful flush crept up her neck as she trained her eyes on his. He so wanted to kiss her now. Never mind chatting and the dinner and everything else.

"Yes, everything's fine…" Marianne started, but then realised how silly it was for them to revert back to tiptoeing around each other. She reached her free hand over to his free hand and took hold of it, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb, not letting her gaze stray.

He allowed a small smile to take over his features and let out a quiet sigh of relief. It was just nerves for both parties, he decided. He turned his palm up so that he could hold her hand in return, then gently tugged on her hand so that she had to lean towards him. When their lips touched they both let out a sound that could only be described as a mixture of a moan for desire and a sigh for relief. Marianne had to work overtime not to spill her drink. The one she hadn't had a chance even to sip yet and all the same she felt like she was drunk already.

As gentle and languid as that kiss was, it left the two of them nearly out of breath. Even when they ended it, Brandon did not let Marianne pull away, but rested his forehead on hers instead.

"Call me an old softie, but I missed you," he confessed quietly.

"Same here," she whispered back, then planted another gentle little kiss on his lips. A few more small kisses saw them both find their equilibrium and get over their state of nerves. A little laugh escaped her lips.

"What?" he asked.

"Sorry, just laughing at myself. I was so looking forward to coming here ever since you rang, and then suddenly I was so nervous when I was at your door. Forgive me?"

Brandon let go of Marianne's hand but only to reach for her even more and place his hand now on her waist, desperately wanting her to understand how right it felt to have here here.

"Nothing to forgive. I was suddenly all nerves myself. Thought perhaps you'd had time to reconsider our situation. Or otherwise find my character lacking…" he confessed. He wasn't fooling anyone if he tried to think that he was easing himself into this relationship slowly and a step at a time. His heart was already as invested as it could be. So long as he didn't frighten Marianne away. She smiled at him again. This time it was one of those, lovely and radiant full smiles he found so beautiful.

"And here I was worried about the same thing," she confessed. He reached down for her lips again. The dinner really could wait a bit longer.


	14. Chapter 14

If Only I Could

Chapter 14

"I think I promised you dinner," Christopher eventually said, not really wanting to let go of his dreamgirl. Their drinks were long forgotten on the table by the sofa and the pair had been working to overcome any initial nerves by reacquainting their lips.

"It was mentioned at some point," Marianne agreed with a chuckle, equally reluctant to let go of this mesmerising man. Her reactions to him were nothing like she'd experienced before. Her reactions were, perhaps, only manifesting themselves in her heightened colour and her breathing and perhaps a little in her knickers that were a touch damper than was usual, but Christopher needn't know about that just yet. Tell the truth, Marianne was a bit embarrassed at how keen she was on him. This was only their second time alone each other's company, after all.

What Marianne didn't quite realize was how hot and bothered Christopher was getting, holding her on the sofa, caressing her waist and her hip and the outside of her thigh, letting this girl kiss the daylights out of him. Making sure he was on his best behaviour, he made sure his wandering hand never reached as far as the hem of her light summer dress, because the temptation not to let it travel back up underneath he fabric would be too much for him. Taking a deep breath he pulled away and rearranged his shirt a little. As was his habit when at home and not going anywhere, he hadn't tucked his shirt in his slacks, and right now he was most grateful for that. It wouldn't do to let Marianne quite see the state of him now.

"Right, so you enjoy your drink. Look around if you like or just relax, so long as you're comfortable here. I'll go fix dinner. Shouldn't take more than 20 minutes." He explained and gave her one more peck on the cheek before he disappeared into the kitchen. Brandon thanked the stars he'd picked a relatively simple dinner that relied more on the preps than the final cooking of it: right now his head was nowhere near the right place to focus on doing fancy things with a knife or working out complicated timings. However, he really should try and cool it a bit now. She was so lovely and the mutual attraction felt so very good and the more he felt that, the more he wanted to build this thing on a solid base.

"Can I come and watch?" he heard her ask at the door.

"And give all my secrets away?" he replied jokingly, only taking his eyes off the fish on the pan for a fraction of a second. It was all coming together nicely.

"I didn't even ask if there was anything you can't or don't want to eat, I just picked a dish – hope you're ok with fish?"

"Lovely!" Marianne replied. She wasn't a fussy eater.

"Just occurred to me later that you could have been allergic or something."

"It's ok, I've no known allergies and I like most foods. Well maybe not liver so much," Marianne said as she pulled herself a chair by the table.

"Oh no…" he said, looking mortified.

"What's wrong?"

"That's the main course…" he deadpanned, holding it together until he saw Marianne almost pale at the faux pas. He didn't have the heart to let her get as far as try to apologise, and he laughed.

"Only joking, my dear," he said. Marianne stuck her tongue out at him as his reward for pulling her leg like that.

"You had e going there, you know! That was horrid! I thought I'd ruined everything!" she reprimanded him but with no real bite to her protests.

Brandon, still chuckling, lifted the fish off the pan into an oven dish and proceeded with his lemon and butter jus that was made in the pan that just had the fish in it. Pasta was soon done and almost by miracle his timings were going fine regardless of Marianne being there, looking at him, teasing him and making him secretly hope that this, whatever it was, would lead to her being in his kitchen, chatting and joking, many times over.

Marianne loved the dinner. The fish was beautiful and fresh and aromatic and the linguine in lemon and butter jus immediately became her new favourite. A nice white wine to go with it all and never mind the company! She was in heaven for sure! Still, she couldn't help her curiosity while they were eating. There was so little she knew about this man, but it was hard to know how to ask about things. It must have been written all over her face, because Christopher opened the topic for her.

"You look like you'd like to ask something," he encouraged her. She looked at him with mild surprise. He didn't miss a thing, did he?

"Well… yes, I suppose I do…"

"Just ask, Marianne – anything that concerns you," he encouraged her. Marianne put her hand on top of his on the table.

"It's not a concern. Honest. In so many ways I already feel I know you. How you are. But I just know so little about you," she explained. He tilted his head waiting for her to continue. He thought she might have a worry, still, about his age or their different positions or that Johnny even. What was there to know about him, though?"

"Elinor's so loyal to you she only tells me you're a very private man. And I can see that too. But, well, I guess I'm just curious about your history, your story. How long have you lived here? Do you have family? Where do you go on holidays? What do you do for fun? That sort of thing."

"And I want to learn more – everything – about you too, Marianne. This is a perfect opportunity for us and I hope we can continue the learning process even beyond tonight." Brandon replied, smiling at her, taking hold of her hand on the table. Marianne smiled back at him. Why had she felt like asking him about himself would be an intrusion? Wasn't the whole point of dating to get to know the other person?

"I've had this house for maybe ten years now. Did Elinor tell you about how I got it?" Brandon started. Marianne nodded.

"I've lived here alone from the start. Well, I've lived alone most of my adult life. I did…" and here he hesitated a little. Was it appropriate to bring up past relationships? He decided then it all needed to come out sooner or later.

"I did live with someone for a short while ages and ages ago, when I was in my twenties, but that didn't last. This may sound like a load of bull, but I there hasn't really been anyone since then. I mean, I've met people and gone out with them and so forth in the past, but it's never come to very much. Which is probably why I'm struck sideways with you, Marianne. To be near you is so very different from anything I've known before." Brandon was talking very quietly now, with concern in his eyes. Was he revealing too much? Was he going to scare her away now?

For a moment Marianne said nothing. She did want to know about his past also in terms of possibly failed relationships and all that, but she hadn't expected him to make such a full declaration. And she found that she adored him for it. He didn't play games, this dating of theirs was not a "let's see, maybe I end up liking you or maybe I don't" kind of a thing – they were both in it with an eye to have a real go of it.

"Wow," was all that she could whisper, though. What do you say to that. She had no words so she got out of her chair, noticed Christopher looking rather baffled, and even more so when she walked around the table to where he was sitting. Then she leaned down and planted a soft, caring kiss on his surprised lips.

"You've knocked me sideways, too," she said, continuing: "I'm not going to pretend otherwise but I meant what I said about feeling like I know you already. I feel like I really want to be with you and get to know you more as we go on."

"You're remarkable," was all Christopher was able to comment on that, and with that Marianne gave him another kiss and returned to her seat before things would get out of hand again. Enough of this heavy stuff, for now. He'd tell her more some time.

They finished the dinner and Marianne helped Christopher, despite his protests, clear the table and put everything away in the dishwasher. Brandon then made some coffee for them and dessert was taken into the front room. The conversation was light and they laughed a lot. Brandon was amazed at how she matched his sense of humour. It had been described somewhat off-colour, after all. And as soon as the tasty strawberry tart was gone, they both seemed to become preoccupied with other delights their lips might enjoy.

While not drunk, the wine and other drinks consumed over the course of the evening had done their job lowering their inhibitions and it did not take long for Christopher Brandon to think he had certainly landed in heaven when he had his arms full of Marianne, curvy and soft in all the right places. Her mouth was on his as eagerly as his was on hers and the kisses and their roaming hands were getting more and more courageous by the moment.

Somehow Marianne shifted onto his lap, one hand in his hair, the other caressing his chest. His arms were around her, one hand also in her hair while the other rubbed circles over her hip, over her buttock and over her thigh. When she moved a little more she rubbed against his erection. The erection he'd been trying to ignore but could possibly not hold back. He moaned at the contact and as they pulled away from the kiss for a moment he knew that she had to have felt his bulge, too.

"I'm sorry…" he started, but she interrupted him.

"Shh…" and she kissed him again, and even moved slightly against him again. His breath hitched and the hand on her hip gripped her firmly.

"Gods you're so lovely… I'm sorry if I seem too eager… It's just that this is heavenly and it's been a long time…" he muttered between kisses.

Marianne was breathing rather heavily, too. She was beyond excited and very much welcomed any and all attention his was prepared to bestow upon her.

"It doesn't really look like we're taking our time over this, does it?" she then giggled as they gave their lips a little rest and simply nuzzled against each other, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, sometimes cheek to cheek. He responded with a warm laugh of his own.

"No, certainly doesn't. But whatever our pace has been, I cannot help but feel so very close to you and so very, very drawn to you. What are you doing to me woman?"

"I'm sitting in your lap making out with you," she explained with more laughter.

"Ah, yes. Making out like a pair of teenagers."

"We don't have to leave it here…" Marianne then decided to be brave and suggest the obvious.

Brandon's arms circled her now entirely and pulled her so close to him she felt she was wrapped entirely in the glorious warmth and safety that was Christopher Brandon. He sighed then, a strange mixture of contentedness and some sort of a return to reality.

"I know, darling, I know… but would you think very ill of me if I told you I'd never forgive myself if I allowed us to go any further tonight?" he spoke in a quiet tone against her neck, still planting small kisses on her skin. Marianne hugged him back.

"Is it something…"

"Darling, no, no, it's not you, I promise!" he hurried to stop her from thinking ill of herself.

"I don't know how to explain it after our 'taking things slowly' has not been any slower than this, but I just would like to leave that decision until a little later. For both of us. God knows you are heaven itself, Marianne, but I wish for us to enter that part of this relationship with consideration and certainty." Brandon was caressing her back, his hand still drew circles over her bum and she could still feel his hard member against her hip and he still occasionally moved his own hips to grind his hardness against her. She was so turned on it was almost ridiculous, but she could also hear his words and they resonated in her with warmth. He really did not want to rush into things.

"Tonight I am experiencing the heady heights of seeing you after days away. I want you to have more time to think about this. I… I suppose what I'm trying to say that for me the next step is a very serious declaration. One that I hope you, too, will want to make…" and he wasn't able to say anything more, as his mouth was once again covered by hers. She then pulled away a little again.

"When you're growing up you're always told to wait until you're really ready and to do it with someone you really care about. I have a feeling both of those things are there for us. I can't believe how fast I'm falling for you and as much as you turn me on…" she said, grinding her hip against him just one more time, "…I have to agree with you and maybe not quite sit in your lap now unless you want me to spontaneously combust. I think I should be asking you that question!" Marianne smiled at him and yet another small kiss was exchanged.

"What question?"

"What are you doing to me, mister?" And that made Christopher Brandon laugh, too. Heartily.


	15. Chapter 15

If Only I Could

Chapter 15

It was nearing midnight by the time Christopher rang a taxi service to take Marianne home. The car came quickly – too quickly if you were to ask the severely smitten couple – and Christopher walked Marianne to the car, slipping the driver a generous payment for the journey. As he did it, he discreetly asked him to wait by Marianne's house to see that she got in all right. One more kiss for good night and she was off. And Christopher Brandon could not help but feel that one days he should stay. For good.

Back inside he started to tidy up what glasses and dishes they'd left, and he noticed his house felt different. It was as quiet as it always was, and he still felt very comfortable in that silence – it was the feeling he got from the house that had been the main reason he'd bought it. Yet now, it was missing something: Marianne Dashwood. Brandon wanted to give himself a kick for being such a sap, falling for the girl so fast. He'd always thought he'd be more collected and rational about things. After Eliza all those years ago he'd decided to keep his distance and not rush into things again. Back then they'd moved in together and played house like all their friends, but when Christopher's interests had been less focused on the party scene of the arty crowds they were connected to at their college, Eliza's interest in him had started to fade somewhat. So much, as it were, that she'd decided to have her fun with a friend of his.

They carried on living together in their small flat, but more as flatmates than a couple. Her partying got more and more out of hand but Christopher still fancied himself in love with Eliza. He tried to talk sense to her, just as a friend if no longer her lover, but nothing worked. Eventually she left him, he cut himself off their usual circles and watched her decline as drugs entered the party life as a regular feature. His former friend broke it off with her and when she moved South of the river that was the last he heard of her. All that love that he'd had for her did nothing towards fixing the problems, and Brandon had decided to be very careful of opening himself to such chance of being hurt like that again.

He had been very careful. He had met women since, gone out with them, even tried to have a relationship that went past a few dates, but in the end he had always found himself, essentially, not interested. Until now. No one, including Eliza, had ever demanded his attention like Marianne. The mere thought of her manifested itself physically in his gut and he found himself a man who had lost this battle a long time ago. It was too late and futile to try and protect himself anymore, and the best he could hope for was to woo this woman pink. Brandon decided sleep was overrated and went straight to his computer. They hadn't listened to music, after all, and if spending time in this house together with her always led to tonight's activities, the music agenda would have to take place elsewhere. He so wanted to see her responding to the music he held so dear. Already he had decided that her party band would be getting a corporate party gig later in the autumn.

At Rosebury Gardens Marianne tried to enter her home as quietly as possible, but in vein. Elinor had been correct and her mother was still up, pretending to read the newspaper in the front room.

"Marianne is that you?" Anne asked, feigning innocence.  
"Well unless you've gone soft on Margaret and she's out until midnight these days, who else did you expect?" Marianne said, popping her head in the front room doorway. Perhaps this would do as a diversion?

"You were awfully late…"

"I did tell you," Marianne interrupted, then quickly continued, hoping to get away: "But I've got work in the morning so I'll just go to bed. Shouldn't you be in bed, too?"

Anne Dashwood looked at her daughter as carefully as she could. The girl was not entering the room, which meant she did not want to expose herself to her mother's scrutiny.

"I hope you went somewhere nice with that boy," Anne then said. As much as Marianne was trying to avoid this line of parental questioning, Anne was determined to have it.

"Oh, Mum, it wasn't like that. And anyways, I'm sorry but I don't really want to talk about this."

"I don't want to pry, but I do like knowing at least a little bit about your life, dear," Anne explained gently. Of course she understood Marianne was a grown up with her own life and she only lived in this house still because their father had died. It was only a question of time when she'd move out again.

"I know mum. But things are still kind of new and up in the air and everything. I promise I'll tell you when it's right, ok?" Marianne promised. It wasn't right to try and hide from her mother really, so the next best thing was to try and ask for some privacy. Meanwhile, she would not be in a hurry to correct her about Johnny, either.

The following morning, Marianne had not been at work for ten minutes when a message came from Elinor, suggesting lunch later. Marianne did not know that the suggestion had originally come from Christopher, who found himself positively giddy – if a man his age was allowed to be described in those terms – and wanting to see Marianne again. Elinor was happy to pass on the invitation, careful not to say anything just yet but curious about seeing these two together again. Outwardly, there was nothing different about this lunch from all the other lunches the three of them had had since Marianne started at Impressions, but somehow, for all three, everything was completely different.

Brandon was already at the lunch restaurant when the ladies arrived. He stood up as Elinor and Marianne joined him at the table and and Elinor was sure the coy little smile he gave them (or more Marianne, probably) was accompanied with a touch of blushing creeping out from under his collar. As usual, the man was dressed impeccably, looking as comfortable in his three-piece as some of the company's computer types did in their baggy shorts and t-shirts. Marianne and Brandon found themselves a little hesitant again regarding greetings policy: Elinor knew about them so a little peck on the cheek wouldn't be a faux pas, but then again they were on company time and had agreed not to let their relationship show. Brandon, however, felt brave and threw caution to the wind. So far he hadn't seen any colleagues in the restaurant and damned if he wasn't going to touch Marianne just a little. It was too abrupt after last night not to!

As Brandon leaned forward to exchange greetings, Marianne immediately cued onto his body language and reciprocated. The touch of cheeks and lips on cheeks was soft and gentle and just a tad lingering. It was the eye contact that spoke volumes to Elinor: she could tell the rest of the world disappeared for these two the moment they were within touching distance. This was by no means just casual dating anymore, that much was obvious.

The rest of the lunch went along the normal routes, talking about this and that, and Elinor was not the type to disrespect the couple's obvious attempt at not making a big show of their relationship. She did not say anything or ask any questions, just observed their interaction. Elinor did, eventually, decide to let Marianne and Christopher have a moment on their own, and said she needed to powder her nose. The two had been very good about not making her feel like gooseberry, but Elinor thought that if it was her just in the first stages of falling in love, she'd appreciate a chance to be alone for a bit.

As soon as Elinor disappeared towards the ladies', Brandon looked at Marianne again:

"How are you? Are you very tired?" He asked, his smile gentle and caring. Marianne could see that he probably had not had much sleep either and she laughed.

"Strangely, the lack of sleep doesn't feel like it normally would – I had such lovely time with you yesterday," she replied, continuing:

"I bet Elinor can tell we haven't slept…"

Brandon chuckled at this. Very little would go unnoticed by Elinor, but it did not worry her: Elinor did not observe things for the sake of gossip or because she was nosy. She simply took notice because she cared.

"Anyways, I was hoping…" he started.

"Yes?"

"I was hoping you might be free this Saturday?" he asked.  
"Yes, I've nothing planned for Saturday – what do you have in mind?" Marianne was getting excited now. She had a pub gig with the band tonight, but hadn't had a chance to tell him about it yet. As much as she loved the band, she had hoped that the gig would not interfere with seeing him as much as possible.

"Oh good. I took the liberty of arranging something. A concert, in the centre, at St Martin in the Fields, and I also booked a table for afterwards," Brandon explained.

"Lovely," Marianne managed to get out when the plan sunk in. A concert and a dinner. He was taking her out and it sounded like a lovely plan. No one had ever taken her out properly like this! None of the boys she'd dated had gone further than meet her at a pub or some other place like that where there, maybe, was some music on or not. Never anything that actually took some planning and arrangement.

"That sounds really lovely – what time? " she then continued.

"If I pick you up at six? The concert starts at seven so there should be plenty of time, we can have drinks first if we get there early. What are you doing tonight?"

"Tonight we're playing at this pub again," Marianne explained with an apologetic face.  
"That's nice," he said, though a little part of him had hoped there might be a chance to see her after work.

"Yes, it's nice we're getting regular gigs now. I pretty much need to meet up with everyone at our training place to help pack all the gear straight after work. Would have been nice to maybe see you tonight, but I'll be looking forward to tomorrow all that much more," Marianne said with a smile. And just as she finished, Elinor returned. Brandon got up and made up some excuse about needing to dash now and said goodbye to his colleagues, this time just giving Marianne a little smile but holding back from kissing her again. He needed to summon his office persona again if he was going to get through the rest of the day.

His intentions and his actions did not, however, seem to match today. It was only a couple of hours after lunch that Brandon found his feet taking him towards the graphics department. The post had brought some brochure for one of these pricy corporate training courses for managing this or that. Graphics and animations designers were mentioned in there somewhere, and in Brandon's mind that gave him a most excellent reason to drop the brochure off to Marianne.  
"Marianne, hello…" he approached her desk. She was surprised to see him. Something was a little odd about him. It was like he was all business, but there really wasn't anything that he'd normally deal with her directly.

"Yes?"

"This brochure came today, for these trainings, and… I thought if you'd take a look at this and see if any of the courses were relevant and useful for our trainees here, you included?"

Brandon presented the brochure to her, opening it on her desk so that he just "had" to lean over her shoulder to look at the course details with her. He treasured the feel of his chest brushing against her shoulder, his thumb reaching just to stroke her back a little where he held his hand on the back of her chair, and his cheek feeling the warmth of her cheek – never mind being able to get a whiff of her scent again.  
"Ah, yes… I see…" and as discreetly as she could, she made appoint of looking at the whole brochure opening, stretching her neck this way and leaning over that way in order to feel him a little closer. It was getting too much. The near-frenzy he'd started in her last night was just around the corner and Marianne could tell her breathing was getting heavier already.

Marianne's brain somehow managed to spot an opening for something more.

"Was there a form to fill for further details on these, and for signing up?" she asked. Of course you'd be able to do it online, but the brochure did refer to some form. She wasn't sure who they were trying to fool, it being Friday afternoon and quite a few people tried to keep their Fridays short. Luckily none of the colleagues in the very next desks around Marianne were not in, for she was certain their little act would not stand up to close scrutiny!

"Ah, yes, the form. I must have left it in my office," he saw what she was doing.

"Perhaps, if you have time, you can just come and collect it now?"

"Certainly," she replied and they took off, trying not to walk as thought they were drunk.

"I think I left it on my desk," Brandon explained to her just as they walked past the secretaries and into his office. He really hoped he wasn't overdoing this, he wasn't a natural actor, but he just needed to see her in private for a little. Just a little so he might make it to tomorrow evening in one piece. At lunch he had tried to convince himself that he could be all grown-up about this and wait until Saturday to see her, but as the afternoon progressed he'd found he wasn't getting any work done for thinking of kissing her.

As soon as the door to his office closed behind him, he reached his arms around her waist just as eagerly as she reached her around his neck and a hungry, hungry kiss followed. When they pulled away a little for some much needed air, they only had to exchange one look and they both burst out laughing.  
"What are we doing?" she asked, still laughing. He planted a gentle kiss on her lips again.  
"I don't know about you but I just couldn't stay away…"

"I know how you feel. I was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate there," she replied.

"I'm sorry – I'm doing just the thing we talked we wouldn't do. Forgive me?" he pleaded.

"I forgive you. I'm not entirely innocent here either. I just keep thinking about you, and last night and I'm getting all excited about tomorrow…" she explained, and they snuggled even closer together and pulled each other in for another sensuous kiss. It was slow, searching and deep, but no longer frantic like the first ones a moment ago.

"Thank you," he the whispered into her ear as he held her close and tried to allow all these sensations to absorb into him so that he could remember them until next time.

"No, thank you. I needed that," she whispered back.

After a few more short moments, Brandon fished some random pointless piece of paper out of his paper recycling bin for her to take back (after all, she had come for that "form") while she tidied up her hair and clothes, and hoped her flush would ease off.

"Do I look respectable?" she then asked. His hand was on the door handle and he gave her one more careful look-over, then planting a chaste, loving kiss on her lips - just that one more.

"You look adorable. But yes, I think you're safe to go out again," he said with a grin. Being able to kiss a girl so that she ended all hot and bothered did, he had to admit, tickle his male pride just so. He hoped he would be able to keep doing so.


	16. Chapter 16

If Only I Could

Chapter 16

Marianne was ready on the dot. Well, she was ready well ahead of time, and then spent the final fifteen minutes before the agreed pick-up time fretting over her hair, her dress, her mascara, her… well everything. She hadn't been this nervous and excited about a date in years! That should tell something about her almost-thing with Johnny: the butterflies just weren't there, really. It was nice to get attention, but that made Marianne a bit disappointed with herself. Was it fair of her to buy into his attention just because it made her feel better? Just because it provided the sense of being adored that she hadn't felt for a long time? Perhaps she had been stringing the guy along after all?

Just before it was time to go out she took a deep breath and looked at herself carefully in the mirror.

"Well there's none of that in this case. I want to be with Christopher because he is who he is. Not because he flatters me. What we have is right, and all I can do about Johnny is to say I'm sorry and hope he understands," she said to herself and pulled herself to her full height. Her posture confident and her fretting down to a more tolerable level, she left the house. She was lucky her mother was still at work and they wouldn't need to repeat the conversation they had this morning.

Marianne had tried to simply slip a passing reference to "I'll be out tonight" at breakfast time, but he mother had not left it at that. She hadn't been grilling her, but had started asking for more details. Thankfully, she had not asked who it was, but did ask what they would be doing and was she going to be very late. Marianne hadn't been too sure how to dodge that: at her age, she was again in a position to keep her mother informed of her comings and goings!

"I've no idea, Mum. I don't know how long the concert is and we may be going somewhere even after that…" Marianne had tried.  
"But you'll come home?"

"Don't wait up for me, Mum, ok? I'll message you if I decide to stay somewhere else. You know how it is with the busses and the underground at night…" Marianne hoped that was vague enough. What she really hoped, and did not want to talk to her mother about just yet, was that a certain Christopher Brandon would take her to his home again and she would not have to leave. Not at least until tomorrow. At that point of the conversation Margaret had made a massive show of rolling her eyes and with a teen-ager's drive to shock all those who were clearly "past it", meaning everyone over 20, Margaret had declared:

"Oh come on, she's going to stay with guy, Mum," and left the kitchen with her mug of tea. Marianne had not been quite sure where to look. Up until that point, she'd felt confident that the topic would be dropped, but now there were no guarantees.

"Oh, I didn't realise you were that close yet," her mother just said, looking a little baffled.

"Honest, Mum. I don't know how the evening will go. But I promise, if I stay the night anywhere, I'll not be doing anything silly, ok?"  
"Ok, darling. I'm sorry if I'm being overbearing. I just find myself feeling so cautious and protective of you and Margaret these days. Elinor too, but she has Edward. You and Margaret are my everything." And that nearly brought tears to Marianne's eyes. She did understand. It had nothing to do with her being well into her twenties, it was just that she'd always be a daughter and her mother clearly still felt very strongly that she alone was now responsible for her daughters.

Marianne did not have to wait very long at the end of her street. They'd agreed to meet where Christopher had said good night to her that first night. A private hire car, a nice one at that, stopped at the end of the street and Christopher hopped out.

"Hello," he greeted her, and reached for a kiss on her cheek. She kissed him back and returned the greeting.  
"You look lovely," he then said as he ushered her into the car. She smiled at him for the compliment. He wasn't looking so shabby himself: another perfectly tailored suit that he carried with complete ease. There was nothing swanky or showy about the way he dressed, and Marianne couldn't help but compare his appearance to all those boys who went out of their way to squeeze into the latest skinny-cut Boss or Armani off-the-peg suits and still looking as natural as giraffes wearing tutus! No, Christopher Brandon wore his suits beautifully.

"You look nice, too. Thank you for coming to get me," she replied. Christopher took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it. Having to wear seatbelts was not conductive to cuddling and kissing, but perhaps that was for the best – she'd end up looking entirely mussed up before their date even properly started!

If the primary purpose of dates was to allow two people to get to know each other better, then secondary purpose simply had to be seduction. Or at least building up positive tension. Their evening turned out to be perfect on both accounts: the hand holding that started in the car carried on throughout the concert to such degree that Marianne was not entirely sure how much of the music she had actually taken in. A marvellous concert, no doubt, but her attention had been divided between Christopher's hand that was holding hers, his thumb that kept caressing the back of her hand almost on its own volition, and her just having to steal glimpses of his face as he responded to the music. When the concert finished and they had come outside to Trafalgar Square again, she couldn't hold back and had reached for him for a kiss.

"Thank you, I enjoyed that very much," she'd said and they had kissed again, keeping it chaste enough considering they were in public, but still managing to fill the kiss with promises of more.

The dinner afterwards had certainly fulfilled the objectives as well: conversation was easy and the lower the level of wine in the bottle, the more they both managed to sneak in suggestive comments and questions to each other. Brandon found himself happy that Marianne did not want dessert: the sooner he could take her home and be alone with her the better. He had by now admitted it to himself that he was indeed head over heels with this girl and if she would have him he would not argue.

"Let me just message Mum, ok?" she then said as they decided they'd leave and go to his. He raised an eyebrow in question: curfew?

"It's nothing like that," she explained as she typed on her phone.

"She's been a bit more interested in my comings and goings recently than for ages, and today she actually managed to say why: she's feeling a bit insecure with Dad gone and Margaret so young and I'm not quite set up in life and all that," Marianne explained. Brandon nodded. He understood.

Brandon kept Marianne talking about the past year or so, the death of their father and how everyone was coping with it for most of the journey to back to North London. Admittedly, it was a serious topic, but it was in important one. Losing a husband and a father had been a change like no other in the lives of the Dashwoods, and he knew they were still grieving. Outwardly, life went on but something like that changes your life permanently. Marianne was a little tearful here and there, but held it together. He wouldn't have held it against her if she had burst out crying or even wanted to call it a night – these things had to be talked about sometime and if he was to be a permanent (he hoped) presence in her life, he wanted to know just everything about her.

"Sorry, to talk about this so much… but thank you. I haven't really been able to. Margaret hurts so but pushes us all away, and Mum will still break down if we were to talk about it. It's not suppressing it as such, I think they just need more time with it on their own. And Elinor is hard to reach sometimes. I think she feels that as the eldest sister she has to somehow maintain the stiff upper lip and console the rest of us. I feel bad for her, and I can only hope that Edward can offer her some relief and comfort."

"I'm sure he does. Your sister said as much one time to me. That she feels responsible for all of you, but at least at home Edward took responsibility for her." Brandon offered. Marianne smiled at that.

"Anyways, enough of that, yes? What have you in mind when we get to yours?" she tried to brighten the mood. Oh how she hoped that morbid topic had not killed the mood entirely.

He stared at her blankly for a moment.

"Well, whatever one does after a lovely date: I've set up lawn tennis in the back garden," he deadpanned. Surely neither of them had doubts about where this date was leading? Gods he hoped he wasn't wrong! But at least his joke worked: Marianne let out that beautiful laughter of hers and Brandon, too, was able to smile again.

Inside his house, Brandon turned some lights on as they got in, leading her into that front room again. Boy he had found it hard to call it a day in there the other night! But she was here again with him. Brandon pulled off the pashmina she had around her shoulders coming home in the cooling evening, and he draped on the back of the sofa. Almost as if spun around by the motion of the scarf Marianne turned to him and in turn draped herself around his neck. The low sound Brandon made as they eased into the kiss sent shivers down Marianne's spine and she just knew that everything they were doing was so right and it meant so much – for both of them.

"I left a bottle of white in the fridge… couldn't help hoping I might be able to bring you home with me tonight…" he confessed between kisses. Marianne laughed at this. He was very sweet, the way he was balancing between the seduction and trying to keep things open so that she wouldn't feel obligated in any way.

"I'm glad you did, because I had rather high hopes about coming home with you tonight," she whispered and kissed him once more. Feeling encouraged by it all, her hands found the knot of his immaculate tie, and started to undo it. His hands were drawing slow but burning circles over her hips, reaching a little over her buttocks, down to her thighs and up again. She sighed deeply in response to his hands on her.

"But I'm quite fine in terms of wine still – perhaps later?" Marianne then continued. When had she ever been this anxious to get someone's kit off? She shocked herself with her behaviour and desires, but Christopher made it all feel right and good.

Christopher hoped he was still reading her right: no wine now but later. So other programme first. It was probably time to show her the rest of his house. Or at least his bedroom?

"I keep thinking I'm terribly forward, but would you object very much if we took this upstairs?" he asked, his hands still working her hips, now pulling her more against him – he needed her to know how she affected him.

"Please…" was her whispered response.

He took her by the hand to lead the way. He showed her in the bedroom and that journey up had been long enough between kisses, as passion seemed to have built up along the way. The kisses that had been luring, soft and almost tentative in nature, seductive, if you asked her, now turned more demonstrative, more demanding, even.

His tie undone, she started to work on his shirt. He shook his jacket off but then was determined to work her out of that beautiful dress. It was a simple, green summer dress but on her it might well have been a designer classic.

"How do I…." he had to mumble when he couldn't find an obvious zipper anywhere. She led his hands to an innocent looking knot on the side of her waist. As he undid the knot, the whole dress started to undrape around her.

"Marianne… so sweet…" he almost choked, not believing this could happen to him.

She finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it out of his trousers, then setting off on his belt when she remembered she'd left her purse downstairs. Her hands stopped and she looked him in the eye.

"Christopher, do you have any…" And he understood immediately, for the moment he had thought about her touching him and where it would all lead, he had remembered.

"Condoms? Yes, they're in the drawer by the bed," he nodded towards the bedside table.

"Good. I was rather hopeful of tonight and have some in my purse but you're making my head spin…"

"…and your purse is downstairs," finished her sentence for her, smiling and still continuing with the kisses and his caresses. She nodded, smiling as well. The matter resolved, she returned to the task at hand.

"Oh, dearest," he said in a low voice, his breathing getting heavier as well. Instead of letting her undo his trousers, he turned her around and pulled her tight against him. She was turning him on so hard he could hardly bear it, and he needed to reduce the stimulus. Just a little. Whether holding her against him so that her beautiful backside pressed against his erection while cupping both her breasts through her bra was to be considered less stimulus was another matter. He was a lost cause by this point, either way. His mouth reached for her neck, nuzzling and kissing her skin, her arm reached up and around the back of his head to pull him down even more while her other hand went on top of his hand, guiding him to enjoy the feel of her breast even more. Words seemed to have deserted the two now and the room was filled with the sounds of his kisses and her breathing.

She turned around again. As much as she loved this, she needed to feel him against her, skin on skin.

"Come on," she guided him, pulling him towards his bed by his belt. He followed, not really even wanting to have a choice.

"I want to feel you…" she managed to explain. She sat on the side of the bed to reach down to her shoes. Damned straps, she berated herself, but Christopher was onto the problem already. He gently pushed her by her chest until she was lying on her back, and he lifted first one foot, undoing the strap around her ankle, taking the shoe off and kissing the inside of her ankle, then repeating the action with her other foot. He let her feet down, then sat on the bed beside her and made quick work of his own shoes and socks. No, a man should never allow himself to be seen in his socks alone.

They worked their way up the bed, his much larger frame hovering over hers, hungry mouths meeting again, trying to convey the importance of this moment. He pulled down the bra straps and the bra and her beautiful, pert breasts were finally available to him. To him and specifically to his mouth. He almost whimpered with joy as his tongue started to play with her nipple, one breast after another, then back. She did whimper with joy when he felt what he was doing.

"So…good…" she managed. They were so compatible, she managed to think somewhere along the way, but quite soon his exploring hand had found her mound and was teasing her on top of her knickers.

"I want to touch you… so much…" he muttered, and having lost any powers of speech she encouraged him by nudging her hips up, pushing against his hands.

Brandon, all hot and bothered and not sure how much more of this he could take, looked up and his eyes met hers in silent confirmation. His hand found its way inside her knickers and she opened her legs for him even more. Oh dear God she was hot and wet for him already! Never in his life had he experienced anyone responding to his touch quite like this.

A few gentle strokes over her clit had really made her cheeks flushed, her eyes closed and her breathing became almost ragged. She was on her way and although he was near desperate by now to be inside her, he wanted to make sure she came once first. She was on her way, as his hand worked her most private parts, his finger dipping inside her, the heel of his hand providing rhythmic pressure on her clit. Yet, there was something else he desired to do to her and Brandon suddenly stopped what he was doing with his hand, moved himself even lower on her, his mouth abandoning her sweet breasts. Her head came up to se why he'd stopped only to see him pull her knickers off and almost frantically placing himself between her legs, his mouth finding her hot core in an instant. Her quiet moans and whispers became an unrestricted wail of pleasure when she felt not only his finger inside her but his hot mouth taking command of her core. Within short moments she let go and came like never before: her fingers in his hair, asking him not to move his mouth away, her back arching and her things around his head and shoulders trembling.

As her breathing eventually calmed, Brandon moved away form her just enough to get rid of his trousers and boxers and to find the packet of condoms from the bedside drawer. His erection was nearly painful now that he reached his tall frame beside her again, skin on skin for the full length of their bodies, and he kissed her and pressed his member against her soft side. Her response was to turn towards him, wrap her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer and reach over his hip with her leg, inviting him to take his place between her thighs. He did not need to be asked twice. Brandon got onto his knees between her thighs and sat on his haunches, but before he got any further than opening the packet she had sat up with him. Her thighs and knees were draped over his spread legs and she took the condom off his hands and kissed him gently before softly pulling his foreskin back and rolling the rubber over his member. It was the most erotic way putting on a condom he could ever remember having and all he could do was to release a shaky breath and lean back on his hands to give her room to complete the job. Then their eyes met again when he pushed her back onto her back again and covered her with his body. Her legs wrapped around his waist and backside and pulled him closer.

"Please, Christopher… I want to feel you…" she said with a smile. He smiled back at her.

"You make me feel so good, darling…" was all he managed to say, and pushed himself in. Once again, the two perfectly articulate, clever people found themselves speechless. The coupling was fast, almost to the point of frantic, but it needed to be. Christopher Brandon found that this was the only way, in this moment, that he could express to her how perfect she felt to him, and how much he wanted to have her. Not just now but for as long as she'd have him. The release was powerful and sweet. Brandon, frankly, amazed himself by being able to hold off until she came again, but once that happened he was a goner as well. Her wail of release was muffled by his shoulder, his series of grunts and whimpers were made against her neck, and the pair remained at that position until their breathing started to ease and some of their blood flow started return to their brain.

Eventually Christopher shifted himself to her side, slipping out of her, reluctant to have to do it but also wary of the condom. He gathered her as close to him as possible.

"I think you've just changed my life, my love," he then whispered. He never wanted to let go of her.

"Am I? Your love?" she asked, surprised. He chuckled.

"I can't deny it now. It's been a bolt of lightning, but I have to be honest: I've fallen in love with you, you sweet sweet woman." Brandon elaborated.

"Oh good," she simply stated, planting a little kiss on the tip of his sweaty nose.

"Good?"

"Yes. I got hit by the same bolt and I find myself in love with you, Christopher," she explained. Suddenly his smile simply radiated deep joy and happiness.

"Stay with me here?"

"I thought we already established that?"

"Stay tonight and many more," he elaborated. She kissed him his answer.


	17. Chapter 17

If Only I Could  
Chapter 17

Christopher Brandon accepted Marianne's kiss as her promise to stay – not just tonight but to keep coming back to him, to stay with him from here on in. He hadn't really meant only to stay in his bed overnight from time to time. He'd meant it in the broader sense: stay by his side, be with him. Be a couple. Yes, that's what he'd meant. He hoped she understood that as he basked in the happiness of that thought by snuggling his nose and mouth to where her cheek joined her neck. He nibbled on her ear, the edge of her jaw and down her neck and allowed himself feel joy at the happy sounds she was making.

"That offer for wine still stand?" she then asked. There was a smile on her face and he could hear it in her voice.

"Absolutely! Wait right there." He confirmed and jumped out of bed straight away to fetch it. It said something about the confidence he had in his essence that he didn't even seem to think about covering himself up somehow but simply patted out the room and downstairs in his starkers. This made Marianne smile even more: compared to the intimacy of the things they'd just said to each other a moment ago, being naked was nothing. And because it was of such little consequence, it somehow only confirmed the level of commitment they'd made to each other.

In no time Christopher was back. Marianne organised pillows so that they could lean back on them (or rather, he could lean back on the pillows while she leaned back on him). His arms around her they sipped on the crisp and cold white he'd brought up.

"I'm still not quite sure I believe this," Brandon then confessed, his free hand finding her breast, starting to caress it lazily.

"You and me both!" she agreed.

"I was so worried you'd think me a right cad, assuming things… even went through my stash of condoms only to find out they'd all gone out of date and rushed out to get some new ones before it was time to collect you!" he chuckled.

"Well I'm no better. Had to pretend to go out for lip balm just to make sure I had some in case you'd been too much of a gentleman and not presumed…" she said and they both laughed at their mutual fretting.

"There was another thing I was worrying about…" he then continued.

"Yes?"

"When, the other night, you said that you were taught to 'save it for someone special' I wasn't quite sure what to expect…"

"You thought I might be a virgin? Oh dear – are you very disappointed?" she asked, teasing him now. He let out a near-indignant puff of air.

"Oh really… I was worried that you might be!" he explained.

Marianne leaned back a little more, twisting a little so that she could reach up to kiss him on his chin.

"You really are the sweetest," she said, smiling.

"But how am I going to cope with you at work?" he then asked, looking down and meeting her gaze.

"Won't the previous plan still work?"

"In principle, certainly, but look how well I kept to that!" he reprimanded himself. She laughed, remembering the heated kissing that had gone in his office.

"Perhaps we try to stick to it, but if it's too hard we'll reassess? Yes? I haven't much left in my traineeship, and as much as I'd love to shout to the world that I've found you and I've so completely fallen in love with you, I still would like to keep you my secret, if that's all right," she told him. He kissed her to agree.

And he kissed her more. His glass was empty, and hers was nearly so he put his glass away and then took hers as well, turning properly so that he was over her, leaning on his elbow, kissing her more deeply now. His pelvis nudged hers and the erection that had been building up as they talked and his hand had been on her sweet breast.

"See what you do to me, my sweet?" His whisper was low, not really expecting an answer. Marianne's hand travelled down his side, over his hip, stroking a slow half circle over his buttock, then reaching between them to take hold of his member.

"Oh yes…"

"Leading me on like this… I'm not a young man anymore, you know…" he then said.

"What's that they say? You're only as old as the girl you feel?" she teased him back. Brandon pulled his head up abruptly from her neck where he'd been kissing his way down.

"Careful there, I think I've a bad enough complex about this as it is!" he said with mock seriousness. Marianne laughed, then looked at him with more seriousness and placed her free hand on his cheek to make sure he kept his eyes on her.

"We have so many things that are right between us. What's age but one little detail in the big picture?" she said. He looked at her for a moment, admiration clear in his eyes.

"True. You're remarkable, you know," he said, and leaned down to kiss her again.

The morning found the new lovers sleeping close to each other, spooning. Brandon was the first to stir, and for a moment not quite sure of where he was. Strange how having someone in his bed made him doubt he was in his own bed! His uncertainty only lasted a fraction of a second as he quickly remembered the whats and wheres – and was the happiest of men to have his arm around one wonderful Marianne Dashwood. His sigh of satisfaction with how the world was this fine morning stirred Marianne awake as well. Her stretch and yawn were almost interrupted when she woke to realise she was being held by a strong male presence. Christopher Brandon's particular strong male presence, to be exact. She smiled and turned a little in his arms to see him.

"Morning there," she said, her voice still full of sleep.

"Good morning. Did you sleep all right?" he asked. His hand started it's usual trek of slow circles on her body almost immediately, and he was very much tempted to press his morning erection against her side – but not just yet, this moment was so precious in so many other ways there was time later for the more carnal pursuits.

"Yes, thank…" Marianne started to answer, when the standard ringtone of Brandon's mobile went off somewhere in the direction of his trousers. The ones that had been folded over the back of a chair last night before the two had finally decided to sleep.

The second time they had made love last night had been long and slow. They had wanted to touch each other everywhere, they had wanted to talk quietly at every point about what they liked and how their touch felt on each other's skin. After release could not be postponed any longer, the pair had been languid and sated, not wanting anything more than to remain there, skin on skin. Sticky skin on skin, it turned out and they had decided to have a shower together. While Marianne dried herself off Brandon had tidied their clothes off the floor a bit. Partly because he was essentially tidy, but more so because he needed to keep himself occupied until he could have the lovely woman in his grasp again and feel the calm that took over when he did.

And so much for that calm now. The phone was insisting on attention.  
"You'd probably better see who it is…" Marianne said and let go of him. Brandon groaned. He really couldn't care less. Yet she was right, he'd better see who it was in case someone assumed to be able to see him right now. He crossed the floor to his trousers still completely unbothered about his naked form (and Marianne still enjoyed it), and reached the damned gadget in time to answer it.

"It's John…" he said to Marianne, then answered as he made his way back to the bed. His morning erection had by now nearly given up. Nearly, but not entirely.

"Brandon, my friend! Catch you at a bad time?"  
"Er… no… Not at all, John, how are you?" Brandon winged it. If they had any chance of keeping their budding relationship to themselves, it was necessary to keep John off the scent for a while longer.

"Did I wake you up? Are you all right, you're not ill are you?" John immediately caught on to Brandon's voice being a good distance into a lower octave this soon after waking up.

"Well… I haven't been up long…" Brandon tried to keep evading his friend. He was flustered and not being very quick on his feet here, and that seemed to make Marianne laugh. She was stifling her giggles into her hands and Brandon tried to shift the phone further away from her in case John heard her.

"I'm sorry, Brandon, you have company?"  
"No, no…"

"Oh – well in that case, I was wondering if you'd like to come over? George, you know George Chesters, is bringing me that new mare I told you about," John seemed, for a moment, to be more excited about the prospect of the new horse than Brandon's potential early-morning company.

"I… …." Brandon tried to answer, but at that same moment Marianne had got over her giggles and was now kissing her way down his abdomen and had reached his suddenly revived erection.

"You sure you're ok?" John asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, but…mmmm… I'm afraid I've made plans for today already. Sorry!" Brandon tried to decline while he was still able to form more or less complete sentences.

"Too bad, too bad! But you should come by soon," John still tried.

"Absolutely. I'll call you!" Brandon volunteered. The men said their byes and Brandon hung up, reasonably assured that his friend was oblivious to his actual occupations for the day. 

"My god, woman, what are you doing to me!" he exclaimed as he threw off the cover she had crawled under for her sneaky distractions. The only reply he got was more of her sweet laughter and all he could do was "punish" her with some relentless kissing – which led to the most satisfying morning sex either party had ever experienced.

Adele Jenkins and Anne Dashwood were having a lovely working Sunday. Summer Sundays were not bad for flower and plant business, and this one was no exception: a steady flow of husbands and boyfriends who, for whatever reason, had not got the Saturday bunch of chrysanthemums or what have you, and the working mothers who really only had the weekends to see to their little gardens. In-between these customers, there was plenty of time to chat about this and that – including the topic that most seemed to take Adele's fancy these days: Marianne Dashwood.

"I she seeing that boy, then?" Adele asked.

"I'm not sure. She doesn't want to talk about it, but she seems to be seeing someone," Anne said.

"And does it seem serious?"

"Serious enough that she doesn't want to talk about it. Not yet, she says. Says she wants to see where it goes first, or something along those lines. Then she didn't come home last night." Anne explained. She wasn't sure why she was opening up so easily about family affairs to this large, jovial woman. Maybe she just needed someone to talk to, other than her daughters.

"Really? Just like that?"  
"Well, not just like that. She did tell me that she might stay all night and she'd let me know. And she did. She's always been easy like that. She does her own thing but I've never really had to worry, you see."

Adele took this information in. It did not bode well in term of what she had in mind for the girl. And her plan was much better than what the girl seemed to be doing.

"She should be seeing Christopher Brandon. That's what I think."

"What do you know about Christopher Brandon?" Anne asked. The man kept coming up one way or another in their lives and having met him that one time briefly, her instinctive reaction was one of trust. He was a good man, and someone who could be trusted.

"Self made man, for the most part. I mean, the family used to be pretty prominent. That's how he knows John, originally. But there was no money, really, and Brandon built up the business from nothing. Attracted the right kind of investors and that was it. He was also in the army, you know." Adele chatted along, arranging a bouquet someone would be collecting tomorrow.

"Really? He doesn't really seem the type…" Anne pondered from her chores, thinking of the very few army men she'd ever met. They were all much more boisterous and so obviously army.

"John tells me he joined just to get a break from everything. A bad relationship that turned everything sour for him, he says. Straight out of university, of course, clever lad like that, off to Sandhurst and almost straight to Bosnia from there. Even more a shadow of himself after that, John said to me. He was never terribly outgoing to begin with, I understand, but after Bosnia he was even more introverted. John's tried to hook him up with a nice girl ever since, but so far nothing."

Anne was listening to this with interest. What a curious man. So she knew he was a gentleman but an officer, too?

"He certainly sounds an interesting man. I'm not sure about that Johnny lad Marianne was with. He seemed so arrogant somehow. I hope it's not him that she's seeing, but unfortunately that's what it looks like." Anne sighed. Her girls meant everything to her, and despite the age difference she'd much prefer the quiet but strong Christopher Brandon over the unkempt arty wanna-be rebel that was Johnny Willoughby.

It was after a late lunch that Christopher Brandon took Marianne home. He had wanted to keep her with him, never let her go, but Marianne had finally sighed and reluctantly talked sense into him.

"I have to make an appearance eventually, and it would be better if I didn't do it late in the evening wearing the same clothes I had on when I left the house yesterday. Too many questions, dearest." She had said as they stood in his living room once again, wrapped around each other and neither wanting to let go. Christopher sighed and hugged her a little tighter and they were quiet for a moment. Happy quiet.

"I may be greedy, and you must tell me if this is too much too fast, but perhaps you could bring some things here next time?" he then suggested.

"Things?"  
"You know, change of clothes, something to wear around the house. You know, what you need if you were ever to stay a little longer?"

His quiet and almost shy request made Marianne smile. She felt so very much at home with him. At home in this house and this was only the second time she was here!

"All right, I'll put something together."

"Am I pushing you too fast?" he still wanted to confirm. He was acting so out of character with her, but something told him he was all in already. If this was not to work out he would hurt the same whether she left her now or later. Marianne pulled away just enough to look at him, and she saw how he was opening himself up for her.

"No, love. It's fast but not too fast. I'd love to spend some time with you. Here. But today I have to go home.

"Ok. But I'll take you home. I'll drop you off at the top of the street again, but I do want to take you there." He'd then agreed.


	18. Chapter 18

If Only I Could

Chapter 18

The new working week was, again, a new experience for Marianne Dashwood and Christopher Brandon. While the weekend had managed to ease the most acute edge of their physical longing, the sexual tension, that had built so quickly between them upon their discovery of their mutual feelings, it had done little for their longing for each other per se. Marianne could not stop thinking about Christopher any more than he could stop thinking of her. It was so bad for him, in fact, that he actually considered taking some of the holidays he hadn't bothered taking for a long time, and just whisk Marianne off with him. But of course, Marianne had no time owed from work. He'd have to wait until her traineeship finished and maybe then take some time off and see if she'd spend it with him. How they would pull it off and still not tell her family about their relationship, he did not know, but there was time yet to think of that.

Brandon wondered how long they would end up keeping things a secret. He still was not comfortable with the idea of coming out, as it were, at work: company owner and director pulling a young trainee was not the idea of behaviour he wanted to promote. Yet, had he not done just that? He would find it very difficult to explain to anyone how that was not what he was doing. He was not just having a bit of fun with a girl. He did not have a track record of pulling young babes for his own entertainment. It was none of that: he had been struck by love harder than he had ever before in his life, and it was perhaps just unfortunate that it came looking as though he was the lecherous older man grasping an opportunity. And while he did not want to show his new, amazing relationship in public just yet, he would be the proudest of men if he could court her in public as well. If he could make an appearance with her by his side.

While showing affection in public was not an option, the couple found that their need for each other's company was constant. Brandon found that he needed to pop by the graphics department rather frequently and just seeing her working at her desk gave him some relief and joy. He had his coffee in the communal area more often and once or twice over the first two days of the week he managed to even sit down next to Marianne on the large sofa. The relaxed pose he'd opt for allowed his leg to rest lightly against hers, and she certainly made no effort to shy away from that touch. Her hand would rest seemingly relaxed between them on the sofa, but he could feel the back of her hand pressing on the side of his leg. All this while they were both, on the surface, having a casual chat about this or that with their colleagues. Christopher Brandon had always tried to cultivate a culture of low hierarchy and friendly demeanour between all employees, and he was fairly certain that people in the coffee area did not find his presence too odd.

At home, Marianne had managed to evade her mother's questions about Saturday night, brushing it of as "staying at a friend" and pretending there was nothing significant about it. She decided she couldn't mislead her mother anymore about who she was seeing, but she couldn't exactly be open about it either so she simply, for the time being, decided not to encourage the idea that it was Johnny. She'd have to tell her mother eventually, but right now she just tried to make things sound like she was just with friends – in as generic terms as possible.

Marianne had also made a point of getting a doctor's appointment first thing on Monday. She rang the clinic outside the office, thinking no one was listening but of course that was exactly the moment when Elinor had come in and had naturally walked over to her and heard her repeat the appointment on the phone.

"Dr Fordham? Are you ok?" Elinor had asked straight away.

"I'm fine, really…" Marianne had answered, feeling herself blush. Why should she blush?

"But you're seeing a doctor…" Elinor had insisted and Marianne just did not want to talk more about it. Not right outside work anyways.

"He's a gyno, that's all, just routine." Marianne had said, and her tone had pretty much ended the topic leaving Elinor with raised eyebrows, putting two and two together: of course Elinor knew Marianne had been away all night on Saturday, but unlike their mother, Elinor knew where and with whom Marianne had been!

Elinor's mid-morning coffee with Christopher that day had also been interesting. She'd asked how the date had been, and for a moment that darling, private, quiet man had not been able to keep down the most adorable, boyish grin Elinor had ever seen. Gods that man needed to smile and laugh more!

"Ok, I see it must have been good," she said to him, smiling. It was easy to be happy for her friend. Brandon tried to curb his urge to keep grinning, but only managed to keep it down to a coy smile.

"I take you're still keeping it all under wraps?" she then asked.

"Yes. We both thought it best for the time being. I really want Marianne to have a good experience working here and not have to think that people treat her differently because of me. I want her to feel a part of her team," he explained. Elinor nodded.

"That's fine. Just so I know to dodge the questions when I see our mother," Elinor laughed.

"I'm sorry to put you into this position," Brandon then said seriously. It was unfair to ask someone to perhaps even lie because of him.

"Don't worry about that, honestly. I promise you, I understand what you're doing and why you want to keep it secret for a while. Frankly, it's no one's business but yours and Marianne's and even I'm just accidentally close enough to have got involved. You have my discretion, always."

"I don't want you to have to keep things from Edward, though," he then remembered her husband. Brandon knew what a close-knit union theirs was and how they were open about everything to each other, always.

"Thank you. I doubt any of this needs to come up even with Edward unless it looks like I have to swear him in on the secret and not to ask questions in front of people." Elinor was still smiling. Her husband was such a darling he might not think twice about asking Marianne about her boyfriend or what have you over family dinner.

"It'll not be for forever, I promise you. She is so very special to me, even if this has been quite fast, and I want everything to go right." Brandon said quietly. Elinor put her hand over his and nodded in understanding.

When Brandon learned that Marianne had band practice on Tuesday evening and a gig on Wednesday, he felt almost a panic at not being able to see her. They met for a walk on Monday after tea, and as requested, Marianne had packed a few personal things in her handbag to take to Brandon's house. Their love-making had been a little less frantic than over the weekend, and the precious hours spent together were filled with talk and laughter, and a lot of learning about each other as they explored each other's bodies more.

When it was time for Marianne to go home for the night, they had a slow shower together and afterwards Brandon looked on as Marianne placed her few items on the bathroom counter: deodorant, hairbrush, toothbrush and a tiny sample-set bottle of her perfume. It felt somehow so right. She'd even brought a few pairs of knickers, for which Brandon made room in his underwear drawer.

"I like this," he confessed.

"Good. Because I like it too. Mind, I do feel a bit like I'm just barging in at yours, but this is perhaps more practical at the moment than if I try to carry this stuff around all the time just in case," she was smiling and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she talked.

"You're not barging in at all. I want you here and I want you to feel comfortable here and I want you to feel like you can come here any time and stay here for any length of time you wish." Brandon nearly whispered the words, holding his forehead against hers.

"Do I want too much?" he asked, still worried he was pushing her too hard. Marianne shook her head in denial. Even if this was the first rush of new love, there was such a deep undertone to it all that she knew this love was special.

After her gig on Wednesday, Brandon whisked her off to his for the night. Marianne had again just given it the broadest of terms that she'd stay the night and had everything she needed to go straight to work in the morning from the "friend's house". Brandon was glad he'd been to the concert – even if it was a bit crowded and noisy – when he saw one John Willoughby lurking in the corners. The men had seen each other, and Brandon had made sure he didn't let the cad out of his sights: just let him try and go anywhere near his Marianne. Willoughby had put his hands up in a backing away gesture and looked apologetic, but Brandon would not trust the other man as far as he could throw him. When the gig was over he found out that Willoughby had sent a note to the backroom for Marianne, apparently apologising for everything and wishing her all the best. If only Brandon could trust that this really was the last they'd see of the other man!

Brandon's mood did lighten quite quickly on the way home, though. After all, he was the one going home with the girl, not John Willoughby, and he would make sure that Marianne would always be safe from that idiot. And when Marianne's hand started stroking his thigh as they were driving home, the last thoughts of the possessive suitor vanished and all Brandon could think about was how to get home quickly but safely.

The front door hardly closed behind them when Brandon's lips were on Marianne's and he actually pressed her against the door he'd just slammed shut. The heat between them was reaching a high peak and Brandon had been sporting a prominent erection for the last mile at least. He pressed it against the naughty woman.

"See what you do to me?" he growled against her neck as he started to rub his member against her in the hallway. All he got as response was more of her good-hearted laughter and her attempts at meeting his movements.

"Good! I missed you so much yesterday," she replied, her breathing getting heavier. She pushed his jacket off him, although it take some convincing that he could take his hands off her for a few seconds so that she could push the jacket off.

He started working on her blouse, pulling it out of her snug skirt. That skirt had been driving him mad all evening, clinging to her in every way possible that made him think of what was underneath. It wasn't her usual everyday type of a skirt, of course. It was her stage outfit and the kind of music the band played naturally called for a bit of flirt in the performance. The whole band had dressed for their part and there was nothing lewd about any of it. It was just that Brandon knew what was underneath, and he knew she'd arranged to go home with him for the whole night, and it had him counting seconds to the moment he could take her to his home.

It didn't take long for his hands to find where the skirt finished, above her knees, not quite mid thigh but higher than any other skirts he'd seen her in. His hands slipped under the hem and started to work it higher up. Soon he was able to cup her sweet buttocks under that skirt and had to moan out loud as that was also when she managed to work his belt and trousers open and got hold of his cock. Neither was able to talk much, with the heavy breathing and the need to keep kissing each other everywhere they could possibly reach with their mouths.

High enough on her buttocks Brandon managed to slip his fingers under her knickers and he started to push them down. His trousers seemed to be coming down at the same time but he couldn't care less. No, that was not true: he cared a great deal that she was caressing his buttocks now the same as he was hers, and then her hand took a firm grasp of his now aching member that was free of all confinement. Her underpants landed on the floor and she kicked them off from around her ankles. He sneaked his hand between her things in the front and found her hot and ready for him.

"I need you…"he managed to whisper and made to move to enter her when he remembered: the condom. He backed away a little, interrupting all activity. She'd remembered as well.

"My purse…" she remembered. They burst out laughing and he reached to the floor where Marianne's bag had fallen off her hand. She scrambled the contents, more or less dumping everything on the floor in search of that all-important packet. This time Brandon took the lead and got the rubber on as fast as he could. He was too desperate to be in her and worried he might spill before he got that far if he let her touch him now.

"Now where were we?" she then asked, wrapping herself around him once again, one leg circling his hips, her arms taking a solid hold around his neck, and her mouth finding his once again.

"I was just saying how much I need you," he whispered. One hand guiding his member he bent his knees enough to position himself closer to her hot quim. He rubbed his tip along her slit, spreading her wetness and bringing out a slow, low moan before he finally pushed in – deep. The calm lasted for all of three seconds before they both felt the need to find their release. It was fast and noisy, almost brutal on both their part. Marianne had never been taken like this and she loved it. He almost whimpered at the sensations of it all and for her to hear his orgasm start and to hear him chant and plead "that's it, that's it… I'm there love, I'm coming… please come with me…" triggered her orgasm – wild and strong. She neary sunk her teeth into his shoulder as she stifled her wail, and he just somehow pressed into her even harder, wanting to stay as deep inside her as possible to ride out their releases.

It took a moment to calm down a little, but then Brandon simply had to lower her down a little so she could stand on her own feet. They stayed close, however, starting to exchange soft, caring kisses, allowing their breathing to calm down.  
"I don't want to let you go, ever," he confessed.

"Nor I you, Christopher. That was… wow!" she managed to say, seeking his eyes and when their gazes met again, they couldn't help but smile and laugh. It certainly looked like they'd found a match in each other.


	19. Chapter 19

If Only I Could

Chapter 19

Getting out of bed had been a true effort for both Brandon and Marianne. Under normal circumstances they were both likely to get to work early to make use of the quiet hours in the morning, but this particular Thursday morning had not been one to inspire such exemplary behaviour. The night had been spent only partly asleep, and even that sporadically in-between making love and talking.

While they'd been somewhat aghast at how close they had come to forgetting about protection when their desire had so taken over their reason in Brandon's foyer earlier in the late afternoon, they had also laughed at themselves for being like a pair of teenagers with no control over their hormones. Marianne had then told him she wasn't particularly keen on controlling her hormones beyond the ones that mattered in terms of procreation, and she was already booked to have the matter sorted this same week. Naturally, the added potential for spontaneity appealed to Brandon but he had had to make sure that Marianne was fine with this step: he did not think it right for him to demand her to get into a regime of changing her hormone balance. Marianne had put him at ease: she'd go onto a pill she'd used before and it had actually helped her with other "girly issues" as she'd called them.

The take-off this morning had been odd. Fun and lovely sort of odd. Brandon realised that every new thing that they did together in his house just made him want Marianne there even more. He loved having his morning coffee and toast with her and sharing the bathroom with her as they were getting ready for work. The only thing he didn't so much like was having to part almost immediately outside his house. His usual transport to work was his trusty old bicycle, and Marianne used the bus. This particular morning it solved the problem of whether they'd be arriving together or not, but all the same: having to say goodbye to her outside his house and know that they'd both be heading for the same office where they'd pretend they simply worked there and were people who got along nicely – well that was rapidly becoming a tall order for him. Marianne had three weeks of her contract left and he would probably end up a nervous wreck in that time.

It had been a busy day for both, and they had agreed to meet again for late dinner. Marianne wanted to make an appearance at home, and also go back to her home for the night, lest her mother really started ask after her comings and goings. And they needed some sleep if they were to function like human beings at work! What Brandon had not expected, however, was his friend waiting for him at his door when he returned home after work. John had rang him a little earlier just as Brandon had been about to hop on his bicycle and pedal home. Brandon had promised to call him back as soon as he got home but that was clearly not necessary as John had parked his Range Rover outside Brandon's and was waiting for the man to get home. So the call had been simply a way of establishing when to ambush Brandon at home.

"Guess you better come in then," Brandon muttered as he locked his bike onto his fence. Of course he enjoyed seeing his friend, but he had a bad feeling about the reason for this visit.  
"Had to come and see you, Christopher, for you never did return that call on Sunday!" Sir John explained his presence in his usual, jovial way. Nothing phased that man, nothing.

"Sorry about that. I must have had too much on my mind." Brandon tried to explain as they stepped in. He went straight to the cupboard under the stairs where he stored his cycling things.

"I've come to issue an invitation, and I'm doing it in person so that you can't wiggle out of it," John declared, a broad smile on his face. Brandon was still shoving things into the depths of his cupboard as he anwered:

"Surely, by the sound of that, you've come to issue a summons more than an invitation?"

Sir John laughed and turned to hang his ever-present hat onto the rack by the door. As he did, something between the wall and the umbrella stand caught his eye: something purple. He hang his hat, and continued the conversation as he leaned down to pick up the piece of cloth that suspiciously reminded him of… oh yes: lingerie. A pair of purple, satiny knickers with a tasteful decorative lacy trim in a very nice taste. Not an expensive pair, but very nice, certainly.

"Summons, if you like, but as I've set Adele on the Dashwood girls so that they have no chance of declining, I had to come here in person to make sure you cannot decline either. Except…"

"Exept what?" Brandon asked as he re-emerged from his junk cupboard. Every man had to have a place for random junk. He re-emerged ever the attentive host with the intention to wave John into his kitchen to offer him refreshments, but his invitation died on his lips when he saw what it was that John was dangling between his fingers at eye level. What it was that had interrupted that last sentence.

"Except, of course, you have found better company?" John asked with raised eyebrows. Brandon wasn't sure how to breathe for a moment. They had completely forgotten about the knickers. They'd got them off Marianne in such heat last night during Act I, and afterwards they'd been far more interested in and Act II and III than on where her knickers had landed. And now John had found them. Brandon opened his mouth but no words came out.

"You sly dog, you actually managed to convince me that there were no love interests about… I take it she is a love interest? You're not usually one for casual flings, my friend?" John was near merciless as he was taking the proverbial mick out of his friend.

"Look, John…" Brandon started. He did not want to tell John about Marianne. Not just yet.

"It's quite recent. And as such I'd rather keep low profile about it. Ok?" Brandon tried to explain. John gave him a long look, then handed the knickers over to the other man. Brandon took them and slipped them into his pocket, and John put an arm around his shoulder.

"Do you have time for a cup of tea, my friend? I understand if you don't want to tell me who it is, but I do want some details. Especially as I've put so much effort into trying to hitch you up I think I should be allowed to know what I got wrong." John dictated as he walked his dumbstruck friend into the kitchen.

It was exactly 34 minutes later that Marianne's phone beeped in the family kitchen, saving her from having to answer some very awkward questions: she had come home from work to find her mother and Adele Jennings there, prepping a simple salad for tea. Apparently Elinor was coming too (her mother had just rang her). Adele was here to present an invitation from Sir John: a horse themed weekend at his country house for the whole family. Apparently, Adele explained, both Sir John and herself now very much regarded the Dashwoods friends if not almost family, and they would love the opportunity to get to know them all better. Wouldn't they find it interesting to come up, do some horse riding?  
"But… but we don't know how to ride," Marianne tried to protest. She'd loved Sir John's house, regardless of the less-than-pleasant memory of Christopher's rejection of her, but none of them had ever sat on a horse.

"That's quite all right, dear. John's an excellent teacher, and he's making sure to have enough help to hand to walk the horses first. Also, I happen to know that he has gone to make sure that a certain rather competent horseman, Christopher Brandon will be there to help you all get started." There was not a hint of subtlety to Adele's announcement: here eyes were trained on a blushing Marianne and she was only just this side of winking.

"I have heard that there is a young man you have been seeing, my dear Marianne, but surely he can be parted from you for a little bit so that you can all come have a nice family weekend in the country?" Adele was not taking prisoners, by the look of it. No wonder she'd come home with Marianne's mother to issue this invitation! It was next to impossible to refuse! Any other answer but to accept the invitation would potentially open the floor to so many questions about her "young man", as they put it, Marianne would have no chance of defending herself. It was at this point that her phone beeped.

"_John was just here: have you heard the plan for the weekend?" x_

"_Just now. Adele J. is here and she's taking no prisoners! Xx"_

"_Same with John. What have you said? Can you still come out later? Xxx"_

"_Not sure there's more than one answer. Elinor doesn't know yet, but Mum seems quite sold on the idea. Yes, I can come. Haven't refused dinner here yet, but will do. See you later. I love you."_

"_I love you too. See you later."_

And so by the end of the afternoon the whole thing was set: The Dashwoods and Christopher Brandon were going to be Sir John's guests in the country. Brandon and Marianne nearly made a scene at the little restaurant later in the evening when Brandon related to Marianne how her knickers had turned up earlier. They laughed through their mortification and Marianne could only commend Christopher's ability to keep their secret despite everything. If this was how it was going to be with her family and his friends, they would find it incredibly difficult to keep their relationship just that: theirs.


End file.
